I, Ke2ensky
by RougeBaron
Summary: Second stave of I,Kerensky storyline. Humbled and broken, Parker took on the game world of Solaris, trying to make things right. Unbeknownst to him, money and fame were not the only things that waited for him there. Last chapter added.
1. Chapter 1

**I, KE2ENSKY**

**_A BattleTech Novel_**

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Story by **RogueBaron**  
Editing and Proofreading by **SulliMike23**_

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First of all, Happy New Year everybody!

It is still vivid in my memory the first words I put when I started **I, Kerensky **a year ago. It said "When I opened my eyes, I saw only light." Those were the words that changed my perspective forever. **I, Kerensky** was a story of irony, a story of choice, a story of a man given all the opportunity to define his future. He chose, and he chose to the best of his ability. He chose the course he _thought_ to be the best for himself, and for those he cared about.

Through **I, Ke2ensky** we will follow Parker, an ex-Wolf Clan ristar as he struggled to live the consequences of his choices. Each decision leads to consequence, but is the consequence worth the losses and the pain? This is a dark vision of a man's dream to live his life, told through the eyes of Parker himself (my second fanfic in 1st-person POV). It will be darker, bleaker, and more depressing than the first one. But fret not: we always have hope. And no matter how glint the hope is, if you believe in it, you'll come to a point _when you open your eyes_, _you see only light_.

A mighty thanks for **SulliMike23** for providing insights, ideas, supports, proofreadings, and the 160 Davion Guards the _Shooting Stars_. Without these aids, **I, Ke2ensky** is not what it is. A special thanks for **Texray1** for graciously offering his help, although we both know you have a wonderful and busy life to live. Thank you. And for all fans and readers, thank you for your continuing support. I hope this sequel will not disappoint you. We authors feed on reviews, so drop me a line or two. Tell me where I can improve, tell me where I did it wrong.

_BattleTech / MechWarrior_ and all its components are copyright of _FASA, Wizkids, Activision_, and _Micro$oft Entertainment.  
The Shooting Stars _and all its components are copyright of **SulliMike23**.  
All rights reserved.

Rated **T** for graphic violence, gore, strong languages, and mild sexual references.

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ONE

_**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
J**__**anuary 15, 3062**_

The blinding sun forced me to shield my eyes as I stepped down the ramp of the dropship, along with dozens of people, vehicles, and even mechs. The refreshing air filled my lung, wiping out the remnants of the stale, recycled air in the merchant ship that was my home for months. As my feet trampled the soil, I paused a moment until my eyes were adjusted to the bright surroundings. I stretched my limbs under the warm sunray, and for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being on a planet.

Solaris VII was the last place I could think of as my new home. I had some training as a technician during my short stay at Hogye, three years ago. I thought that living as an arena repairman was the best course for me. I did not know anybody here. Warriors and battlemechs would come and go like wind, and people would be busy keeping track of their champions and their money, they would not pay attention to repairmen like me.

Pathetic, _quiaff_?

I, a Kerensky, the first among Clan mechwarriors, humiliated myself by coming to Solaris as the lowest rank of human being, hiding from war that was my destiny. I, a Kerensky, voluntarily lowered myself to the 'laborer caste' of the Inner Sphere, cowering under the sand of the arena, hoping that one day I could remember what I was and what I went through prior to Engadine, so I could make things right.

When I came to the booth, the person gave him a yellow slip with a number in it. "Third row, last door on the right."

I looked at the slip with blank stare. "What am I supposed to do with this, Sir?"

The person gave me a derogatory look. "What are you, pirate? You think Solaris is a bar? This place has authority, and everybody that gets in has to be accounted for, even if you only live for the weekend. Read the instruction on the slip! Now move your ass from the line, or I'll call the security guards to drag you out of here!"

So that was how everything worked. Still, he got me wrong. "Pardon me, Sir, I do not come to fight."

The officer scoffed. "Do I look like I care? Get off the line, dickhead!"

There were questions burning in my head, but I reckoned staying here longer only invited trouble. So I cleared the booth and observed what other people did with the yellow slip. After passing the booth, people took their slips to a row of tables, and gave the slip to the officials, along with their codex. Well, there was no codex on the Inner Sphere, only ID. I pulled out my fake ID, made by the CAMR, then slowly cruised in the traffic. Hopefuls from all over the universe jammed the tables, trying to find their way toward the glory that were Solaris arenas. Jets screamed above our heads, and fanfares roared in the distance, as if calling us into their bloody pits.

Once again, the Inner Sphere had surprised me beyond beliefs. I had never seen so many people waltzed into their deaths voluntarily. Such a waste of lives. These warriors, young and eager to face their bright future, were drawn into the sparkling glamour of Solaris, oblivious to the fact that only death awaited. Those youngsters, if trained in the right hands, could be fine warriors in the future, but instead they fought for c-bills.

But then, who was I to judge them? Look at me… I was no better than them. Maybe even worse.

"Next!" the Solaris official finally called me up. I gave him my slip and my fake ID, and he spent some time staring at me, scanning me from head to toe. Although smaller than archetypal Clan mechwarrior, my appearance was different than most Spheroids. Lucky for me, the official did not pursue his curiosity any further. He stamped my ID and took the slip, and freed me to the street. From the corner of my eyes I noticed that he still gave me one last glance before the guy behind me hollered at him, asking him to work fast.

I found some warmth as I strolled on the streets. It was the closing of a season, and I thought people would too busy to notice a stranger like me. But every corner of Solaris City greeted me in a friendly fashion. I kept going until I saw a bar, Thor's Shieldhall, and decided to go in. My experience living in the Inner Sphere stated that a bar was the best place to find up-to-date information.

The smell of alcohol reeked as I entered the bar. Smoke hovered in the air, and the sound of music blended with voices of half-drunk men. The bar was only half full, but those who occupied the seats sure kept the waitress busy. As I took a seat on one corner, I overheard several people talking about their exploits on the arena. Some of them were talking about fancy moves they invented to dispose their opponents, none of which realistic. Others talked about the virility of their mechs which - according to them - 'could drill new holes on the O'Bannon's sisters'. The alcohol must have knocked them out of their senses. I could not help but smile.

"Welcome to Thor's Shieldhall," a waitress greeted me, cutting off my eavesdropping. "My name is Emi, I will be your server today. By the way, you're not a familiar face. First timer?"

This waitress, jet-black hair with nice smile and pretty eyes, showered me with interest and enthusiasm. I guessed she never met a Clansman before, but she did not know what one looked like, so she probably just saw me as a freak. Nevertheless, her hospitality piqued my interest.

"Yes," I replied. "What is the specialty of this place?"

"Depends on what you have in mind," she answered. "Just straight beer or something stronger? If you like beer, let me offer you Heineken, imported from Tharkad. You know Bavarians, they love their beers. If you prefer something stronger…"

"Beer is fine," I nodded. It was more of curiosity than craving for alcohol.

"Sure," she popped a bottle for me. "Enjoy your beer. Anything else I can do for you or do you want just a beer and a silent afternoon?"

I saw a perfect opportunity to dig some information from her, so I played along. "I could use a company, as long as you do not get into trouble talking during work hours."

"I've been back-to-back since 8 this morning," she smiled. "This place is always busy. One little break won't hurt my timesheet. By what should I address you, stranger?"

"Parker." I watched her reaction as I said my name. She did not put interest in it.

"So Parker, what's your story?"

"Nothing interesting so far. I am a mechanic, and I want to try my luck at Solaris. Some places like VEST do hire good mechanics. That is the reason I am here."

"So you're not a mechwarrior?"

"Why do you think I am a mechwarrior?"

"This is a place for Solaris jocks," she explained. "Well, low- to mid-level Solaris jocks. They come here to… uhm, tell stories about their accomplishments in the arena. High-level Solaris jocks hang out at Valhalla Club, although what they do there doesn't differ much than what people do here. A mechanic being here is… rare." She took a seat in front of me. "So, a mechanic, huh? You must've loved mech so much. There are not a lot of people I know who eloquently admit that he's a mechanic."

"There are two kinds of worker: the ones that do the work, and the ones that take the credit. I prefer the first one, because there is less competition."

I could tell that I got her attention. Her pupils dilated, and she sniggered. I did not think my comment was that funny. But I could tell that she was so sick of listening to the drunken braggarts that only a small anecdote about them got her off. "You're different, Parker. You talk different, you look different, you think different than most people I know. Where are you from?"

This was a critical question. I did not know if Emi had the capability to see a lie, but I could not just tell her about my past. I had to deflect her question and direct her to fit my interest. "A lot of places, here and there. I did not stay long at one place because I did not find what I like. I hope I can find it in Solaris, being the place for the wildest mechs and all."

"I see," she receded. "I might be able to help you. There's this stable master that is a regular of Thor's Shieldhall. I hook you two up if you're interested. It's no VEST, but the first step is always the hardest one."

"Sure," I coined interest. "What do I owe you?"

"Give me a visit sometimes when you're big," she winked. "And leave me a big tip."

"That I can do," I smiled. "Where can I see this fellow?"

"He's sitting at the corner near the bathroom. His name is John Daniels. I'll let him know…"

"No, you have done enough," I slipped several c-bills on her hands. "Thank you."

I did not wait for her comment. I quickly zipped past several customers and waitress, and found the man without much difficulty. He was a middle-aged man with unkempt beard and cluttered cloths. Beer bottles lined up in front of him, but the way he was chugging his liquor did not show that he was stopping anytime soon. I had a vision that his stable was struggling to stay alive, just by the look of him. But I was lucky to meet him on my first day at Solaris. I could find work immediately.

"Mister Daniels, I presume," I offered him my hand. "My name is Parker. Emi told me that you might be interested in a new mechanic."

A curt guffaw slipped past his mouth. "Get out of my sight, boy! Mechanics don't interest me! What I need is a good pilot!"

"I am a good mechanic Sir," I kept on campaigning for myself. "You will not be disappointed."

"Are you deaf, boy? I don't need a mechanic! Mechanics suck! I need a good pilot! Now unless you're a mechwarrior, you can kiss my ass goodbye!"

I saw that there was no use talking to a drunken man. I gave him my smile, then I left his table when unexpectedly he called me, "Hey, hey, hey! Are you a mechwarrior?"

"I am a mechanic, I told you that," I replied. "I do not want to be a mechwarrior."

"You are, aren't you?" he guffawed, spewing the stench of alcohol. "Why are you wasting your time finding a job as a mechanic when you can fight in a mech? You're wasting your talent!"

I knew he was drunk, and his words were mostly driven by alcohol, but what he said was the sanest logic I had heard for a long time. I did not know how much I blushed, but I felt my face hot. I shamed myself by looking for a job as a mechanic, while my specialty was fighting in a mech. Worse still, this came out from a man who was half conscious.

"I guess I can ride a mech a little," I replied sheepishly, "but I do not want to work as a mechwarrior."

"Good! You're hired!" he yelled, patting my shoulder. "Meet me tomorrow at my stable!"

"Mister Daniels, I do not think you know what you are saying," I protested.

"Ah, well, we can always leave formality for tomorrow. Yeah, that's right! Tomorrow! Don't be late!"

Before I could rebut his comment, he left me and went back to his table, ordering a couple beers more. What did just happen? I was just recruited as a mechwarrior. He said that he was looking for a good mechwarrior, but he did not even ask for my dossier. Perhaps it would be the best if I just ignored what happened. I did not want to work for some drunkard I picked up at a bar.

"Excuse me… Parker?"

I did not recognize that voice. I turned around, and a young couple was standing about an arm length from me. The guy was a fine-looking man, obviously a military officer although he was dressed in civilian uniform. The woman was slim but firm, and I could be easily mistaken her for a civilian if it was not for her sharp eyes. I could recognize military personnel just by the way they looked at me.

Strangely, I had never seen them before.

"Pardon me, have we met before?" I prodded.

"No, but does the name Evee Ridinghood mean anything to you?"

How could it not? It meant everything to me. We parted at Outreach, months after she broke into Jade Falcon's stronghold at Wotan to get me out. Ah, Evee, how I missed her. It was still vivid in my memory her welled-up eyes before her dropship took her back to her home, New St. Andrews, away from me. I still remembered how close I was to jump into the dropship. Hearing that name tore up an old wound that started to heal.

Well, I would take it back. The wound would never heal.

"Who are you?" I spiced up my voice with hostility. "How do you know Evee?"

"My name is Kyle Garret, 160th Davion Guards," the man explained. "This is my fiancée Natalie Gibson. I don't mean to intrude, but I overheard you mentioned your name. Evee told me about a Parker when we were working together at Carver V 3 years ago. I just want to see if you are the same Parker as she told me."

I felt as if a sword was driven straight through my chest. She told me about the horror of Carver V, with every gory detail that still lodged in my head. She told me about this Davion soldier that helped her through her darkest hour, when her unit was decimated and she was critically wounded. She found her strength in this Kyle Garret guy. I could not imagine what Kyle would think of me if he knew what happened to us.

"Look, it is a difficult time for us," I tried to flinch. "Excuse me; I have an early day tomorrow."

"Where is she?" Natalie pressed me. "I want to meet her."

"She… she is home."

"Home? New St. Andrews?" the Kyle guy frowned. "Did you leave her?"

"I did not leave her!" I defended my action. "You do not know the whole story. My brain was damaged during my initial encounter with the locals at Engadine. I do not have a memory prior to 3058. I did not know who I was when I met her. She helped me find myself by going with me to Arc Royal. She helped me decide who I wanted to be. I would give anything just to be with her.

"But I carry with me a dark past that I did not know anything about. Part of it attacked us ensuing Arc Royal. I could never forget that day. The hopeless look on her eyes, pleading me to protect her, but I could barely protect myself. You would not believe what I did to make sure she went home secure. Three years I had to endure hell, and she had her own hell on Carver V. I love her more than anything, but I could never put her in that situation again. This is the best course for both of us. So do not judge me!"

By this time, I realized that I started drawing attentions from other customers. They stared at me, and the ones that pretended to ignore me were prepping their ears high, trying to catch every word I said. I did not know why I became this expressive. Perhaps hanging out with _freeborns_ for a long time slowly turned me into one.

"I know," Kyle responded with a low voice. "She told me everything."

I watched their expressions. They did not have to say it; I knew they sympathized with me and Evee. If only I could be with Evee the way they were together… Their togetherness gave me a strong sensation. I could not help depicting Evee and me standing side by side, the way they did in front of me. This thought was killing me.

"Then let us assume this conversation never happen," I averted my eyes. "I do not like to talk about it."

"Our apologies," Natalie replied. "We always thought you found your ways to be together. Anyway, a friend of Evee's is a friend of ours. If there is anything we can be of assistance, let us know. We would be glad to help you."

"Your help will be greatly appreciated, but there is no need of it now," I nodded politely. "I can find my way around."

"Likewise," Kyle replied shortly.

I left the bar, mad as a wounded beast. I never met him before, but I did not know why I held so much grudge against this Davion man. I hated him, but with no particular reason. I tried to find the reason, but I guessed it was just pure envy. It was surprising, though. I never thought I had the capability to feel envy. And I did not even know why I was envious. Because he had a fiancée? Because he was there when Evee needed somebody? Because he was everything I was not?

It was interesting to see myself change. I had been drifting into an antisocial grouch that hated life since Evee faded from my life. And the Davions were nice enough to offer me assistance, out of respect for Evee, but I took it offensively. I regretted it, but I could not help it. I missed her so much, I lost interest in anything. The vibe of life that pushed me to defy my heritage was there no more, taken by the vanishing blonde that was my spirit.

Then I remembered about John Daniels. Perhaps I could give him a chance.

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	2. Chapter 2

**TWO **

**Note:** Many thanks to **Kat **and **Tony **for the reviews. I'm glad you like it. You know how much feedbacks help me in fixing errors, growing up, or simply gaining confidence.

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_**Neon Grid Arena, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**March 6, 3062**_

I could not believe what I had gotten myself into.

The technicians prepped up the final touch for the WSP-3M _Wasp_, a 15-year-old relic mech that had been resurrected from the arena dozens of time. The armor plating was welded in a rush and only in several parts, leaving multiple cracks gaping all along the body. The wiring had been rewired numerous times to keep the mech running, and missing spare parts were the norm in the cockpit. Half of the gauges were not functional. The list went on and on, but amazingly, the _Wasp_ could function as any pristine mech under top-notch maintenance.

First, I came to Solaris to work as a technician, although my skill was only substandard. Then I agreed to fight in the arena using a junk. Even in a nominal condition, the _Wasp_ was never designed for combat. Its specialty was to run. And with only one medium laser, one missile launcher, and paper-thin armor, I would not expect it to last long against _Wolfhound_, _Jenner_, or _Panther_. Let alone _Cougar_ and _Adder_, two Clan mechs that had been regular visitors of Solaris arenas.

"I just got the list of your bogeys in this arena," John Daniels came bringing me a piece of paper with names of combatants. "Spyder McNevel in a _Flea_, Ding Lingh in a _BattleHawk_, 'Iceman' Thiessen in a _Raven_, Zippy Zalot in a _Jenner_, and Muhammad Jones in a _Javelin_. All suck, none are aces. Should be an easy fight for you."

Easy fight? If I could see myself in a mirror, I would have seen revulsion in my own eyes. This guy spoke as if arena fighting was a backgammon game. He gave me a mech that might not survive the initial breakout, and he said this should have been an easy treat for me. If I had a knife, I would have probably jammed it into his nostrils.

"It is easier said than done," I spited. "Do you really expect big things out of this mech?"

"It is the only one I have," he retorted. "If you're not happy with this, why did you sign up with me in the first place?"

"I signed up as a tech, not a mechwarrior!" I raised my voice. "I will be happy to relinquish my seat to a better pilot. Perhaps with me as the mechanic and him as the pilot, we can get something out of this mech."

"Look now," Daniels melted, half pleading. "I can't afford a real pilot. You're the only one available. Come on, just try it. It might be your lucky day."

I looked at him and never for a second had I respected him as my boss. His decisions were made when he was drunk. No wonder he was having financial trouble. If only he stopped drinking, sold his mech, and opened a spare part business, he would have been the boss of his own company. But then again, who was I to judge?

"No aces," I donned my cooling vest and helmet. "If this information is not accurate, I will kill you."

"That's the spirit!" he chortled. "Remember, first place got fifteen thousands, second gets ten, and third gets five. We need it bad, so try to place as high as you can."

I ignored Daniels and climbed the _Wasp_. The couple of techs helped me strap onto the command couch and start the mech. An ear-piercing whirl blasted into the cockpit, followed by a rough quake. The engine coughed and sputtered to life, and for a second I was afraid the reactor might blow up during the initialization. Nevertheless, the start-up sequence went on, until the mech steadied up, ready to take on the battle.

As the tech closed the hatch, I gently pushed the throttle forward. The _Wasp_ squeaked and creaked as it trudged the pave, and I could feel a slight limp on its gait. The weapon gauge was not functioning, so there was no way to tell if I walked out into the arena with working weapons or not. If worse came to worst, I could just grab stones and throw it at my enemies, and hoped that the stones rammed into the cockpit.

Neon Grid Arena was one of many smaller arenas surrounding Solaris City. It was an enclosed arena, about one mile square, lit by hundreds of fluorescent lamps, hence the name. Sometimes during the fight, stray fires would destroy the lamps, so the arena would darken out. Since this arena was categorized as _blood pit_, only two kinds of warriors fought here. New mechwarriors used this arena as a stepping-stone to bigger ones like the Jungle Arena at Cathay, Factory Arena at Montenegro, or the Holy Grail of Solaris, Steiner Coliseum at Silesia. _Zombies_, or washed-up warriors, used this arena to cash out, until they were killed or fed up with fighting.

I led my mech out of the hangar, and five other contestants had been waiting eagerly. Once again, a _Wasp_ was not designed to fight, so first I had to stay alive as long as I could while trying to devise a strategy to win this match. The other five mechs would have to kill each other, so I might be able to persuade them to attack each other and leave me alone. Should I survive long enough, then I could start thinking about winning the match.

As soon as I stepped into my place, the horn sounded. The fight had started. The _Flea_ and _BattleHawk_ immediately came into my direction, probably were attracted by the fact that my _Wasp_ the smallest mech in the arena. Easy killing. I did not know if they worked together, but I did not want to hang around to find out. I pumped my jets and flew backward, evading the duo. The _Flea_ soon reached its firing range and started peppering me with its lasers and flamer, the _BattleHawk_ hot in its tail. The arena was a flat surface with a valley in the middle, so there was no place to hide. I bobbed and weaved, missing the lasers while running toward the other three mechs. They were too caught up in a battle to notice me, so I could lure my attackers to attack them first.

The _Flea_ and _BattleHawk_ kept on showering me with lasers, but soon I realized that they were lousy shots. As much as jiggling my joystick while running forward and their shots went wide, sometimes by more than a meter. A couple times the lasers grazed my limbs, but nothing serious happened. My armor level was enough to withstand a couple of shots. I fought the urge to turn around and fought them, and kept running toward the crowd in zigzag pattern.

When I closed in to the crowd, the _Raven_ had separated itself, flaming and billowing in thick smoke. The _Jenner_ and _Javelin_ continued to trade shots, albeit most of them slammed into the wall. When I was less than 100 meters from them, I made a wide turn to the right and quickly looped to the left, putting the fighting _Jenner_ and _Javelin_ between me and my pursuer. As I expected, the _Flea_ and _BattleHawk_ turned their guns at the _Jenner_ and _Javelin_, plunging into a confusing 4-way battle.

I could not believe the quality of these contestants. They fought without strategy, shooting blindly at anything in front of their mechs. And even though their enemy was right in front of their nose, they missed a lot. And they used their guns as if it they had unlimited ammunition and a lot of heat sinks. If they continued to do what they were doing, they would wear themselves down.

Maybe I had a chance to win this match after all.

As the _Jenner_, _Javelin_, _Flea_, and _BattleHawk_ pounded each other with little success, I set my eyes at the sole _Raven_, obviously trying to avoid weapon contact to stay in the game as long as possible. I took a chance to charge it and readied my guns. I hoped the gun did not backfire, because looking at my mech's condition, it was a good possibility. The _Raven_ saw me coming at it, and it broke into a run while firing its weapons at me. I shifted my mech to the _Raven's_ blind spot, then raised my right arm and hit my trigger. Two streams of lasers lanced from my right arm. One missed, the other landed on the _Raven's_ left torso. I must have hit a critical part: blue flame spewed out from the torso, followed by sparks and smoke.

My battle scanner was not functioning, but it was easy to see that the battle with the _Jenner_ and _Javelin_ must have worn the _Raven_ down. Its speed dropped down drastically, and gear fluid dripped to the ground. I steadied my mech, then hit my missiles. The white trails ended up on the _Raven's_ right torso, right under the missile box. Once again the _Raven_ staggered, thrown aside by the shockwave of the explosion that consumed the ammunition bins. It went back to its feet, but the knees were wobbly. I hit my trigger, firing several quick bursts of laser, and the _Raven_ roared into a fireball.

It was my first Solaris kill, and I should have been overjoyed, but I took no pride in killing a half-dead mech with a pilot that still needed gunnery lessons. I quickly brought my mech toward the rest of the mechs. I could not see how damaged they were, but the Jenner showed a hint of smoke on its left arm. So I dove into battle and trailed my guns at the _Jenner_.

The _Jenner_ was busy attacking the _BattleHawk_ when I fired my entire arsenal, a combination of missile and lasers. Half of them missed and ravaged the building, but the ones that hit, they hit hard. Pieces of titanium flew as my missiles pierced the armor on the left arm. I shot a couple more burst from my right arm, and the _Jenner's_ left arm soared into the air, before skidded on the ground. Losing mass, the _Jenner_ swayed to the right, but managed to keep standing.

Suddenly my proximity alarm rang. Without my battle scanner, it was hard to see where the missile came from. I twisted to the right but it was too late. Four missiles from the _Javelin_ slammed into my right arm. The _Wasp's_ armor was not particularly thick, so four missiles were enough to tore a smoking gash. However, the _Javelin_ had to wait to reload. I fired my missiles in response, followed by my lasers, half of which grazed the _Javelin's_ shoulder. The 30-ton mech was taken aback with the force, and I used this opportunity to escape from its line of fire. The _Jenner_ was the greatest threat, and I wanted to subdue it as soon as possible.

At this time, I had abandoned my initial strategy to stay alive as long as possible. Seeing how poor their performances were, I dared myself to go for a second kill. The _Jenner_ fired its entire weapons, trying to catch me in the laser rain. Two laser strands cored me in the chest, but the _Wasp's_ armor was still thick enough to stop them. I brought my mech to the _Jenner's_ left, hiding on its weaponless flank, while continuously firing my pulse laser. The _Jenner_ shrugged the attack and retaliated with its missiles. One missile almost caught me on the head, but I quickly ducked, missing the missile by the centimeter.

While I was caught up with the _Jenner_, the _Flea_ scored two hits on my back. A good ton of armor was washed away, and I knew there were not much more left. So I quickly left the _Jenner_ and faced the _Flea_, but the _Flea_ quickly avoided my line of fire. Finally, somebody with an ability to wage a respectable fight. I had to take note of this player. I swung to the left, away from the _Flea_, and continued working on the _Jenner_, while closely monitoring the _Flea's_ position.

Firing all its weapons, the _Jenner_ jumped into the air, trying foolishly to do death from above. But there was a reason why we – Clansmen – did not perform this maneuver, aside from dishonor. When flying, the bottom part of the mech was left exposed. So instead of moving back, I pushed my mech forward, until I was right underneath the _Jenner_, then let it have it. My lasers eviscerated the thin armor, and my missile went almost unopposed into the internal structure. Three consecutive explosions ripped the _Jenner_ midair, and it glided to the ground like a gutted beast, bleeding fire and smoke from its belly. Its legs almost split to sustain the imbalance weight, but nevertheless, the _Jenner_ refused to go down.

The Draconis Combine surely knew how to design a mech.

Seeing the _Jenner_ inches away from death, the other three combatants quickly zeroed in it, racing to claim the prize. I used this opportunity to hurt the _Flea_, since it seemed to be the most intelligent combatant of all. When the _Flea's_ guns were trained on the _Jenner_, I hit my alpha strike from its left flank. The _Flea_ bent to the right as my missiles slammed into its left torso. I followed up with my laser, which stripped the left torso even more. One more missile hit and the structure caved in, destroying half of the internal structure inside. Fire and smoke burst from the wound, and the _Flea_ was forced to take an early exit from the race.

The _BattleHawk_ claimed the prize, killing the _Jenner_ with one swift sweep. Then it turned its guns at me. One unfortunate blast hit my right arm, weakened by the _Javelin_ five minutes ago. The laser struck deep into the internal structure and damaged the pulse laser. Now I was left with missile. I had to watch for the ammunition, or I would need to throw stone to finish the fight, just like my thought before the fight.

I triggered my jets backward while firing my missiles at the _BattleHawk_. It sidestepped to the right, but the _Javelin_ was waiting. A dozen missiles shredded the armor of at the back, pushing it forward. The _BattleHawk_ faltered, and when it regained its footing, I hit it from the front, keeping it off balance. Then the _Javelin_ shoved it forward again, chastising its thin rear armor. The _BattleHawk_ swayed left and right, hopelessly trying to stand tall amidst the crossfire. But it was too damaged to keep in play. One salvo from the _Javelin_ took it out. It crashed to the ground, burning and crackling.

I knew that the _Javelin_ packed a hefty punch, so I tried to swing to its back, away from the twin SRM6. Out of nowhere, the _Flea_ emerged and showered the _Javelin_ with its flamer. The _Javelin_, already hot from repeated shot at the _BattleHawk_, quickly flushed half of its coolant, but the _Flea_ did not let it cool down easy. As soon as it recycled, it fired the flamer again. Two-third of the _Javelin's_ body was covered in sweltering goo, and the pilot knew sooner or later his mech would shut down, and became a sitting duck. He ejected.

That guaranteed me on the second place, and ten thousand c-bills. Initially I did not expect to get this position, but since I reached second place, might as well tried for the first. I launched my missile, but the _Flea_ dodged it. It retaliated with its laser, and when it got into range, it spurted its flaming phlegm again. I felt heat spiked inside the cockpit as my right leg was caught by the fire. The heat definitely slowed my down, thus making me an even easier target for the _Flea_. However, I could not rush flushing my coolant; otherwise I would end up like the _Javelin_.

So I let my mech burnt, and when the _Flea_ recycled to fire another round, I fired my missiles. Warning sign blared into my ears, saying that I had exceeded critical heat. Nevertheless, my shot hit the _Flea_ on the center, right when it fired its flamer. The explosion threw its target, and the stream of burning gel splashed on the ground. Undaunted, the _Flea_ followed up with its laser, but I flushed one-third of coolant and ran in circle, away from its small lasers. The _Flea_ lunged at me with full force, trying to catch me with the flamer again, but I decked it with a well-placed salvo to the midst. The 20-ton mech quivered and started to spurt smoke. I wished I still had my pulse laser working. It would sure come in handy. But I did not have any choice. As the _Flea_ jumped toward me again, I prepared my final assault.

I knew the guy liked his flamer, so I timed my shot, every time my shot hit the _Flea_ in the center, so its flamer shot was deflected. Repeated blows to the center weakened its armor. I brought my mech to a standstill, waiting for the _Flea_ to deliver its flamer shot. As I predicted, the _Flea_ hit me with a long stream of flaming gel. I took its best shot. Sweat streamed down my face as heat surged into the cockpit. But now the _Flea_ had to wait, and it was really close on my flank. I pivoted and buried two missiles into its center torso. The flamer container broke, spilling gallons of gel. A small spark triggered an inferno, and within seconds, the _Flea_ was swallowed by raging fire.

At this point, I knew the _Flea_ would not be able to do anything, and I just had to wait until the pilot ejected. But Solaris was a different situation than the battlefield, and I did not want to take any chance. I put my crosshair on the center of the _Flea_, and as soon as it was ready, I sent missiles toward the weakened front armor. The ground shook as the _Flea_ erupted like a geyser, sending burning titanium to a wide area.

Thus concluded my first Solaris victory.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

_**4-Cross Arena, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
J**__**uly 25, 3062**_

The money I received from my first match was used to buy parts to replace bad parts. The most important things were dashboard components like battle scanner and weapon tracker. With new equipments, I went into the next battle better prepared, so I scored another win. The money went to armor platings. This cycle went on, each time the _Wasp_ got better parts. When there was nothing more to repair, I saved the money to hire better technicians, ones that really knew how to handle a mech inside out.

As my mech got better, my rank went up, and I fought better and better mechwarriors in bigger and bigger arenas. Up to this point, I managed to collect more and more c-bills, but I felt increasing difficulties fighting against the opponents as I moved up. They started to use strategy, not just blind shootings. Some of them had good piloting skills that sometimes it took me more than 5 minutes to beat an opponent. But so far I just fought regular mechwarriors.

Today was the first time I fought an ace.

"His name is 'Fist' Difalco," Daniels explained this ace to me. "He had his glory days during the Clan invasion era, and he placed himself at the top 10 overall ranking. He was undefeated for over 5 years in the light and medium circuit. But recently he kinda loses his touch, due to increasing age. His losses became a regular occurrence, and people don't respect him as much as they used to. I guess Difalco has become a _timey_. However, he's still a good shot. He's in a _Cougar_ with 3 LRM20's, so watch out for the missiles. One swarm can disable your mech. Don't let him get a lock on you, and always put something between you and him."

"Leave the fighting to me," I said as the new techs finalized the _Wasp_. "What about the other two?"

"Nothing to worry about. Paul Gomez is in a _Raptor_ and 'Wildcat' McGee is in a _Commando_. Easy pickings."

"Sure," I mounted the _Wasp_ and headed toward the gate. 4-Cross arena was a unique, cross-like arena where only 4 players fought at a time. Each player was placed at the corner of the cross at the end of a long tunnel, and they had to sprint across the hallway to fight other players. By far, Difalco had the most powerful mech against 3 relatively unknowns in smaller mechs. I wondered why he could be in such a lopsided situation.

"Well, well, fresh meat," I heard somebody hailed me through general frequency. "I have been following your games, and I must say I am impressed. But as you might already be aware of our situation, there is no way you can win this fight. My mech is simply faster and better than your pathetic piece of junk. So my advice is…don't try too hard. The harder you try, the harder you'll fall."

"A Mech does not give you victory, Fist Difalco," I replied apathetically. "Skill does."

"Ah, a witty one, just the way I like it," Difalco sneered. "I always have the greatest pleasure killing your kind. So then keep your head high, Parker. It's easier to get your neck that way."

This was the type of warrior that liked to taunt his enemy before killing them, underlining his superiority over his opponents. He reminded me of Jerome Helmer, the Jade Falcon maniac. His thrash talk made me want to oust him quickly, but I could not let my emotions control my actions. His _Cougar_ is a powerful mech, armed by series of weapons capable of taking on a mech twice his size. Exactly how he got access to Clan technology was beyond my imagination, but he could singe me in a flash if I was not careful.

The horn blared, and I throttled up to meet the _Raptor_ who was placed right in front of me. Lucky for me Difalco was on my right, and we could not see each other just yet. The _Commando_ on my left was going to get the full gamut of Difalco's wrath, and I could observe how Difalco used his arsenal.

Halfway through the tunnel, the _Raptor_ got a lock on me and quickly pumped up its missiles. The tunnel was not wide enough to take evasive maneuver, and dodging the missiles would be a real challenge. But there was not enough room for the missiles either, so if I could get the missile to pass me, I was free.

I waited until the missiles were less than 400 meters, then cut off the engine and pushed my joystick as hard as I could. The _Wasp_ came to a screeching halt and ducked low, curving up like a ball, missing more than half of the missiles above its head. Three missiles slammed into the shoulder, rattling the cockpit, but the rest of them flew harmlessly. They looped to hit me from behind, but because the size of the hallway, they just slammed onto the wall. As smoke and concrete filled the void behind me, I jerked my mech up and resume sprinting.

The _Raptor_ was not ready to fire its long-ranged missiles, and its lasers had not reached firing range, but at this time Difalco drew the first blood. Dozens of missiles streaked in front of me, pounding the _Commando_ in such a powerful torrent. The _Commando_ did not seem to know how to dodge the missiles, so it took the shots, doing its best to keep standing while the missiles flogged it to the internal structure. But weathering a hailstorm was not an easy task. The _Commando_ tumbled to its back; limbs and metal gristle flew in the air.

So that was how Difalco worked. He relied on his missiles to deliver the blow from long range, quickly reducing his enemy to scrap before it could even fire back. I suspected he had targeting computer installed on his mech to increase accuracy and active probe to counter ECM. However, he had no back-up weapons. If I could neutralize his missile packs, he would be a sitting duck. But I could care less of it for the moment. My focus was the _Raptor_, who was ready with its missiles.

I heard the warning that I was being locked, so I triggered my jets. My mech soared past the juncture, overlooking Difalco's _Cougar_, and over the _Raptor_. The _Raptor_ fired its missiles and lasers, but I was out of its firing arc, so its missiles hit the ceilings and its lasers peppered the wall on its right.

I landed about 50 meters behind the _Raptor_ and quickly pivoted, trailing my pulse laser at the _Raptor's_ back. This was not exactly the way Clan fought, but I got used to Inner Sphere fighting style. Several bursts of laser grilled the _Raptor's_ rear armor, but it used its excellent speed to pivot and showered me with its lasers. I caught two shots in my left torso, and the loss of a ton of armor made my mech sway. I realigned my crosshair and hurled my missiles, hitting the _Raptor_ in the left torso. The bird-like feet twitched as my missiles gave it a strong shove. Nevertheless, it rushed to fire all guns at me. I could tell that he did not have a hard lock, so a swift twist to the right let the missiles and laser bolts zipped past me. I sunk two laser bolts at its torso, and I could see that the _Raptor_ was mildly overheated by the last alpha strike.

Suddenly my radar screamed. It could not be the _Raptor_, since it just expended its missiles. It could not be the _Commando_ for it does not have long-range missiles. It must have been Difalco. I turned around and saw the void behind me was entirely covered by missiles. I knew I had only seconds to dodge it, but with my back against the missiles, I did not have many choices. My first solution was to sacrifice my left arm, since it held nothing. So I twisted fully to the left, then braced for impact.

The missiles hit me like a huge tidal wave. I was thrown to my right, hanging on my command couch as the missiles swept my mech. My consoles burst and cables sprouted from the wall. The mammoth quake overtook my senses for seconds I thought I passed out. My head throbbed, and before I knew it, the cockpit tilted to the right and another quake ensued. I hit my head on the wall, and I seemed to lose grip of the situation for some time.

While lying there, the first thing that came to my mind was the _Raptor_. Difalco needed some time to recycle, and the _Commando_ did not have anything left, if it still existed. The _Raptor_ could take advantage of this situation. I still did not know how extensive my damage was, but I had to assume the worst. I had to deflect the _Raptor_ from me and coerce it to fight Difalco. But how would I do that? I was lying on my side with shaking hands, unable to get my mech up, let alone making evasive maneuvers. Another choice would be to keep my position and play dead. My inner Clan despised this tactic, but I did not have many choices. So I shut down my mech, basking myself in shame and hope, wondering if the _Raptor_ would ever buy my ploy.

It did.

Through my broken canopy I watched the _Raptor_ turned its guns away from me, and faced Difalco. It must have thought that I had been neutralized. It hit alpha strike again, half of which peppered Difalco from the front. Whoever the pilot of the _Raptor_ was, I marveled his courage but loathed his folly. He should have known Difalco had three times the firepower of his mech and the skill to use it. Yet he chose to brawl with Difalco. I suspected he would not last long before he ended up with the same fate as the _Commando_.

So I had to work quickly. I started up my mech and made it stand. It was not an easy job, since I lost my left arm. But it was unavoidable. It took the _Wasp_ several seconds to adjust to the new weight distribution, and when it stabled, I assessed my damage. My entire left torso was carved up, and one shot to the back would bury my mech under a bonfire. Half of my gauges were dead. But my right side (along with the pulse laser and the missile launcher) was virtually untouched. The reactor had a leak, but I estimated I had 10 minutes before the engine would start losing power.

As I suspected, Difalco showered the _Raptor_ with missiles, which the _Raptor_ boldly answered. Missiles exploded everywhere, and the _Raptor's_ laser shots wore down the _Cougar_ a bit. But the _Raptor's_ armor could not hold Difalco's missiles for too long. By the third strike, the _Raptor_ had no weapons left, and Difalco's missiles ripped it to pieces like a tsunami, leaving nothing but blackened metals and burning debris.

"Two down, another to go," I heard Difalco flaunted over the two easy kills. "You don't have a lot of things to offer, Parker. Might as well yield to save your money, because you will need to buy a new one by the end of this fight."

"You hit me with a cheap shot," I replied, trying to bug him. "You hit me from behind."

"Hah! What did you expect me to do? Wait until you finish jacking off with the _Raptor_?" Difalco cackled. "Your inability to access the situation shows us that you are not a worthy adversary. For the last time, Parker, I'm offering you a chance to walk out of here. It'll be embarrassing, but at least you'll walk out alive."

As much as he aggravated me, I could not help thinking why he wasted time talking to me. His ferocity dealing with the _Commando_ and the _Raptor_ showed me that he should be able to oust me quickly. Why did he not finish me? What was with the bluffing? He was not hurt, not a bit. His front armor sustained few damages, but he should be able to fight more, especially against half-baked mech like my _Wasp_.

Unless… he was running low on ammunition.

Then all made sense. He knew I was better than the two warriors he disposed. He knew that he might not be able to finish me using his remaining ammunition. He had lost part of his confidence. This was a hole that I had to exploit to the greatest extent to win against him.

"Try me, Difalco," I contested his masculinity. "Do not tell me that you are afraid of fighting me in combat. Just give me your best shot. Unless you think that I am a threat to you, let us finish it the old-fashion way."

"Thy wish shall be done, creep!" he roared and blasted his missiles. Proximity alarm screeched, and I knew I had to dodge it. I put all my power to the myomer and throttled up, adding jump jets to make the initial jerk. I felt my back was pushed against the command couch as the _Wasp_ dashed forward. When the missiles were inches away from my face, I fired the jump jets and turned it 90-degree, pushing my _Wasp_ sharply to the left. I could almost feel the heat from the missiles as it swooshed past the cockpit. The missiles hooked to pepper my back, but eventually ran out of space and rammed the wall behind me. Once again the ground shook, and concrete flew in the air. However, none of the missiles got me.

"Fancy move, I see!" Difalco commented, "but if you think it'll save you, you're sadly mistaken!"

I caught a glint of panic in Difalco's voice, and I knew I was right about him. He just wasted 60 missiles on a wall, and for a mechwarrior piloting a missile boat, it was a huge waste. Now I had 7 seconds to send my answer, and I had to make every shot count. If I could disable one of the missile launchers, his next attack would be greatly reduced in power.

"My turn!" I replied and fired an alpha strike at his left torso. My laser chipped the armor covering his launcher, and my missiles smacked the bulk of his center torso, creating dents but not crack as I hoped. A good mechwarrior that he was, he knew what I was after. He gunned his jets and used his blistering speed to get away from me. I could chase him, but I had 3 more seconds before his missiles were ready. I decided to let him go and plan my defense instead.

"Eat this!" he shouted and fired up his missiles. The sight of 60 missiles flying at me was incredible, but it was not the time to watch. I jumped to the right, into one of the long hallway, and ran as fast as I could toward the end. The missiles tried to follow me, but their wide arcs were not versatile enough to make a tight 90-degree turn. They ravaged both corners of the hallway, turning it into a mangled concrete. One more time I defied Difalco's attack, and I thought he was really pissed by now.

I quickly reversed direction and pounded Difalco's left torso. My pulse laser repeatedly shed armor, and when the torso started to glow in orange, I fired my missiles. Difalco took a tight turn to dodge, but one missile managed to hit the torso. I saw the crack, but I could not press my attack. Difalco was ready for his next wave.

As I expected, Difalco launched his missiles, but only from his left arm. Ah, he learnt. Cascaded attack would give him absolute protection, putting me at the defense the whole time. Good thinking, but perhaps a little too late. I did not know it as a fact, so I had to keep dodging and forget about the attack until he ran out of missiles. I moved to the other hallway, but Difalco followed suit with his second wave. I ducked hard, but three of them hit me on the leg. My joystick rattled so hard I hurt my thumb trying to steady it. About half a ton of armor was shredded, but the myomer and actuator were not damaged.

As I shook the _Wasp_ left and right, I thought it was not the best way to beat Difalco's cascaded attack. I was always at the disadvantage, because he could hit me repeatedly from long distance. To neutralize his missiles I had to get close. He still could singe me with a lucky strike, but the probability was lower than getting hit by long-range missiles at long range. Plus, I could use my guns more effectively.

So that was what I did. Instead running left and right, I ran straight at the _Cougar_. Difalco launched his next wave, a swarm from his left torso, but I crisscrossed my path while maintaining my course. About four or five missiles slammed into my center torso and the armor tracker blinked red. I could not endure any more shots from the front. But I knew I did not have to. Closing in to the _Cougar_, I fired my lasers, and then swung to its left. Difalco fired his missiles, but at close range they were inaccurate against fast-moving target. The missiles spread through a wide area and carved holes on the walls. I kept circling him, sinking burst after burst, driving him insane, while he desperately pivoted and twisted about to get a clear shot at me. His missiles whizzed to every direction and hit everything but the intended target: me.

And then, he stopped firing.

My mech was cored, and only paper-thin armor left to defend me against Difalco's attack. But I knew there would not be any more attack. I throttled down and stood in front of him. It was a glorious feeling, standing in front of a mech almost twice my size, and knowing that it could not harm me in any way. Well, except if Difalco went for physical attack, but I did not think he would go that way. He was a smart fighter, and he should know his _Cougar _was not designed for melee.

"Yield, Difalco," I said cockily, pointing my pulse laser at him. "Save your mech for your next fight."

It took him some time to realize that he had no choice. In the end, he powered down, but not before spitting his venom, "This is not the end, Parker. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. Next time, I will crush you under my feet!"

"I look forward to it," I smiled as the horn sounded, ending the fight in another victory for me.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

_**Thor's Shieldhall, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**July 27, 3062**_

When I beat 'Fist' Difalco, I thought I just beat a _timey_, a warrior past his prime who wandered from _blood pit_ to _blood pit_, shoveling money from rookies and newcomers. When Difalco made a threat, I thought it a threat in the arena. Little did I know that Difalco was a much larger player than a _timey_.

I was sitting alone at Thor's Shieldhall, enjoying a quiet afternoon when 4 men entered the bar. They dressed up like mechwarriors, and they took the table next to mine. They did not seem to be interested in food or drink, and they sent Emi away curtly when she tried to take their orders. I smelt something inapt about their presence, so I called on Emi, pretending that I was ordering another drink.

"Have you seen them before?" I whispered.

"No," she was still shaking by the rude treatment of the strangers.

"Here is what I need you to do," I slipped some c-bills into Emi's hand. "Call the police, call the security, and hide behind the counter. Do not – I repeat, do not come here again until they are gone. I feel something bad will happen. Now go and pretend you are getting me my order."

"But what about you?" she whispered back.

"Never mind me." I pushed her gently, then spoke in a rather loud voice, "Another beer, please, and bring it faster this time. You do not want your tip to be cut in half, do you?"

She got up and smiled, speaking in a distinct but edgy voice, "Your beer's coming right up, Sir."

As Emi walked behind the counter, I tried to look to other direction, but kept monitoring their movement from the corner of my eyes. As soon as Emi disappeared behind the counter, two of the strangers got up and quickly moved in on me, one from the left, and the other from the right. They took the seat and pulled up pocket knives, shoving the tip onto my ribs.

"Get up," one of them hushed in a hoarse voice.

"What is it that you want from me?" I tried to resist. "Can we just talk like civilized people?"

"Get up, or you'll be chocking on your own innards!" the other one pushed the knife harder.

"My wallet is in my rear pocket," I followed their order, but still tried to buy time. "Take anything you want, but just leave me my ID card."

"Shut up! Shut up you sonofabitch!" the first heaved my collar. "You don't know who you're messing with! Now walk to the door! One false move and you're dead!"

I had no choice. The gravity in his voice told me that they meant every word. The other two got up and followed us closely. I walked between tables, watching Emi poking her head from behind the counter. I knew she was trying to help me, but she was smart not to take everything into her own hands. I could only hope she called the police and security guards, just like I asked. Other customers looked at us, and then returned to their own problem.

I was still clueless of what these guys wanted from me.

Coming at the door, the other two guys walked past us and opened the door, but Kyle Garret stood there as if he had been waiting for them. Before they could even blink, Kyle's elbow flew past my face and drilled the guy on my left, right on the bridge. The guy's head twisted back as his body swayed like a timber. He crashed on top of a table, taking down with him beer bottles of 5 mechwarriors that had been thrashing out a particular event in the arena.

"What the hell?" they ranted. Two of them lunged at Kyle but Kyle shoved the other thug that came for me. The guy rammed the mechwarriors, and he got up to knuckle Kyle but the mechwarriors held his arms and punched him in the face. The thug lost his balance and slumped on another table, which brought more mechwarriors into the fray. It was like a chain reaction. If somebody fell on a table, all the mechwarriors on that table rose and started punching with no particular target.

Now mechwarriors fought each other, with the thugs trapped somewhere in the middle. Each one punched the closest person next to him, which in turn punched him back or found somebody else to punch. Then security guards came in, but it was too late to establish order. They tried to subdue the mechwarriors, but instead getting punched from every direction. They defended themselves by doing exactly what every body else did: punched somebody next to them.

I stood there idle, watching the solemn bar erupted into a brawl feast. Somehow I felt that Kyle had this planned. The way he was waiting at the door, the way he picked the closest thug to a table, all led me to a conclusion that he knew what happened in the bar. How? Did Emi called him? It was unlikely, because I knew Emi would call the police before he called on Kyle.

But I had no time for a thorough guessing. One thug was still on my right, shoving his pocket knife at my side. I grabbed his hand, yanked it forward then pushed it down as hard as I could. An agonizing groan reverberated from his lips, coupled by a horror look in his face, as his own pocket knife sank into the flesh of his thigh. I grabbed his collar and cocked my left arm, then hurled my fist into his face. He jerked his head behind before teetering on his heels. Once again I hit him in the face, and he crashed to the floor.

I was ready to grab him, but two wrestling mechwarriors tumbled upon me, bringing me down under their weight. I crawled back up, but they were really at it, and once again pinned me against the wall. I pushed them away and got up, but yet another one came and punched me in the face. I had never met him before, and I was sure he did not know me either. But he did punch me, and punched me hard. Why? I did not know. Perhaps it was just the way it was around here.

I lost my vision for a split second when his fist blasted my temple. I reached for the wall to regain consciousness, but the one that punched me had grabbed an empty beer bottle and swung it toward me. I flinched, and the bottle exploded on the wall. He still got the sharp edge, and he tried to shove it at me. As much as I was confused about this meaningless brawl, I did not want to be taken victim of the bottle. I slapped his hand, and when his momentum brought him close, I jammed my knee into his midst. He keeled over in pain, and I sank my elbow onto his shoulder blade. He tumbled.

Fighting drunken men was more dangerous than fighting sober ones. A particular mechwarrior, a big hunky man, broke a leg of a chair and used the leg as a cudgel. He swung it hard and cracked the skull of another mechwarrior. As the smaller mechwarrior went down, the big man lunged at me, swinging his 'bat' like a _Hatchetman_ looking for a kill. I thought they were just fighting, but now things were getting out of hand. One strike of that club would send me to an infirmary. As the big man swung, I ducked and sent my fist into his juncture, just between his legs. It was a dirty shot, but I did not know the meaning of this brawl anyway, so I might as well do it. The big man hunched over, his eyes widened as his mouth agape, whimpering like a little girl. I sent him crashing to the ground with just a little nudge on his shoulder.

Clearing the big man, I went back to the place I last saw the thug that I stabbed, but he was gone, leaving only a trail of blood on the floor. So were his companions. Suddenly cops scrambled into the bar and started pushing people around. Some mechwarriors resisted, and the cops used their batons to pin them on the ground, rendering them motionless. I raised my hands when they came to me, and they just pushed me to the wall, asking me to stand still. Some minutes later, paramedics stormed into the bar, giving health aid to those who were knocked out during the brawl. Funny thing, though, nobody came and apprehended Kyle. He stood there while cops flooded the bar, restoring order by breaking up the fights and pushing people against the wall.

Who was this man? Was he with the cops? Emi called the cops, that much I was certain. But how did Kyle come here earlier? Why nobody touched him, despite the fact that he drew first blood? I started to see that Kyle's presence at Solaris had something to do with the cops.

Then two more characters entered the bar, Natalie and a middle-aged man, clearly the leader of the cops. Kyle went on to talk with the man while Natalie summoned me, giving me gesture to come up to meet them. The cops gave way, so I followed her call until I was close to Kyle and the cop leader.

"Captain Morton, SCPD, Black Hills sector," the man introduced himself. "We got a distress call from the waitress that you were being abducted by unknown mobs. What did they want from you?"

"Honestly, I do not know," I replied. "They just asked me to get up and follow their direction. I said they could get my wallet, but they did not take it."

"Do you know any them? Did you begrudge somebody?"

"No, as far as I know, no."

"They might be the Grey Wolves," Kyle interjected. "Parker smoked 'Fist' Difalco two days ago."

"Ah, there," Captain Morton smirked. "You're just messing with the wrong people then, son."

"What are Grey Wolves?" I muttered.

"I'll take it from here, Morton," Kyle responded, pointing the trail of blood that headed toward the door. "Parker stabbed one. If he's not dead losing blood, he's on a nearby hospital. I think you should trail him."

"You bet," Morton hailed his lieutenants. "Ali, take charge here. Hills, get your men. We'll follow the blood. And Garret, always a pleasure."

"Of course," Kyle made a simple salute, which Morton returned in a flash. He looked at me, realizing that I could kill if I did not get proper explanation, then hailed one of the paramedics to take care of me. "This one needs a little attention."

I did not realize that I had a swelling on my left temple. The mechwarrior that decked me earlier sure knew how to deliver a punch. The paramedic put a bag of ice on my temple, and it felt as if it was burning. But a minute later, my temple became numb. He then put some medicine and wrapped my head with a bandage.

"You owe me a lot of explanation," I said to Kyle while the paramedic was done with my head. "But first, what are Grey Wolves?"

"Grey Wolves are one of the syndicates in Solaris," Kyle explained. "Game syndicates. They have arms like squids that penetrated deep into the game infrastructures. They have the necessary tools to fix matches, bribing juries and referees, and even fixing the result. Their target is the gambling business. Sabotaging a match was not uncommon in their operation, so certain mechwarrior would win the match. This way, they can milk the advantage of betting.

"The Grey Wolves, in particular, have a close bound to the Capellans. Their area of operation is Cathay, where there were a lot of Capellan loyalists putting their money on Capellan-backed players. But recently, the Grey Wolves had been damaging Davion loyalists. I think this act is influenced by Tikonov and St. Ives Compact."

"God, I hate Capellans!" Natalie sighed.

"What did they want from me?" I mused. "I have no connection to any Successor State."

"Fist Difalco is one of Grey Wolves' frontrunner in light circuit," Kyle replied. "He is past his prime, and he's not getting any younger. People started to overlook him, and that's where the Grey Wolves get their hands dirty. They must have fixed the betting, but they were not considering you as a threat. You beat him, thus ruining their betting plans. So my guess your attackers were Grey Wolves, but we can't be sure until Morton gets a solid proof."

"How're you connected to Captain Morton? Are you a cop?"

"No, I'm never a cop," Kyle shook his head. "I didn't know Morton before I came here. I'm a Davion soldier, serving with the 160th Davion Guards, known as the Shooting Stars. Evee must've told you about me and my unit. We fought together at Carver V."

Again, him mentioning Evee made my head spin with rage. I did not know how his fiancée put up with him. It seemed that he mentioned a lot about Evee, some even in front of his fiancée. My heart started pounding, and my blood sped through my veins. Suddenly I had the urge to launch my fist at his face, but I knew doing that would only complicate things.

"If you are a Davion soldier, why are you here," I snapped with inadvertent hostility. "You have a fight to win against the Steiner, do you not? Why are you playing games instead?"

Kyle looked at me with all intention to bury me under his wrath, but instead he restrained with excellent self-control. His willpower put me to absolute shame. I was the one who should excel in self-control. I was a Wolf Clan mechwarrior! I was trained to put my logic above my emotion. But somewhat my restraint crumbled whenever Kyle mentioned Evee or Carver V.

What was wrong with me?

"After Carver V, my unit was stationed at Tecumseh, Kathil PDZ," Kyle replied, obviously opted for the more civilized approach, but his gaze told me that my comment was not ignored. "Katrina Steiner decided to take the planet as a stepping-stone toward Kathil. Her target was Kathil's mech factory complex. She sent the Sword Crushers under 'The Butcher' to set up a base for LAAF. While my Shooting Stars disposed the Sword Crushers, I was locked in a duel with The Butcher in a _Fafnir_. I thought I had him, but I was wrong. The monster took my best hits, then returned fire in a vengeance. I was forced to eject, and if it wasn't because of my lance mates, I would've been squashed under the _Fafnir's_ feet.

"Although the Sword Crushers had been destroyed and The Butcher had managed to flee off world, I was not happy with my performance. I thought Solaris was the place to improve my skill. So I assigned one of my lancemates to take care of my unit while I went here with Natalie. I was lucky that the O'Bannon Sisters heard about me, so they invited me to work for Gemini Stable. And it happened that some of the mechwarriors at Gemini Stable had been victimized by Grey Wolves' shenanigans, and the sisters worked closely with Captain Morton. I volunteered to be the frontrunner for their cooperation. So that's how I know Captain Morton.

"I realize, by your reputation, sooner or later you'll cross path with the Grey Wolves, so I asked Morton to look out for you. When the waitress called the cops, Morton told me that you're in trouble. I heard about you and 'Fist' Difalco, and I knew this would happen. Then I set up an ambush. But Morton was late, so I had to take care of the Grey Wolves alone."

So that was how he looked prepared. Still, I was unhappy with the entire situation. "Does that mean you are using me as a bait to lure the Grey Wolves out?"

"I thought about that," Kyle leaned back. "But I couldn't. You're Evee's heart. Although you are not together anymore, I can't do it because of her. See, Parker," he paused, clearing his throat. "If I wanted those Grey Wolves, I should've gotten them arrested already. But my sole objective was to get you out unharmed. That's why I summoned the bar fight because I couldn't fight 4 thugs without you getting hurt."

As mad as I was at him, I felt moved. He barely knew me, and I already made a nasty impression out of myself. I came out as a grumpy ass. Yet he decided to assist me, out of his respect for Evee. That was righteous, something that I need to take note, that there were _freeborns_ with noble quality like this man.

But then, how did I know that he was telling the truth? How did I know that it was respect for Evee that drove him, not lust or passion? He talked a lot about Evee and Carver V, and it was easy to see that he had something more than just respect for Evee. She told me about him, that he helped her through tough times, and that they became close friends ever since. Perhaps Evee did not tell me the whole story. Perhaps something else happened at Carver V that bound them close.

But considering the situation, it was unwise to pursue this matter at this moment.

"I am grateful for what you did for me," I said. "Pardon me for all my bad manner. I wish we met at kindlier situation."

"Yeah… you've been in rough times," Natalie responded. "No heart feelings, but remember that your attitude can be the death of you. Some people hate grouches."

"I will keep it in mind," I nodded.

"Just watch your back," Kyle added. "You're on their crosshair. They'll try it again, that much I'm sure."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

**Note: **Thank you always for **_Kat_** and **_Tony_** for the continuing reviews. To **_EvAnGeLzZz_**, I always thought that "heart feelings" is a proper term, like "heartfealt confession". But who am I to complain? English is not even my mother language. That's why I need proofreadings. Thank you for the correction. Unfortunately, I can't answer your other questions without revealing too much. So please continue to tune in. I will try to post new chapter once a week.

* * *

_**Skull Mountain Arena, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**November 3, 3062**_

After losing the game at 4-Cross, Difalco seemed to disappear. I never saw him again, nor heard him taking the stage at any arena. And I never heard about the Grey Wolves, either. Captain Morton informed me that he lost the blood trail from Thor's Shieldhall. His squads could not find any trace of the thugs, as if they were never at the bar. He was certain that those guys were Grey Wolves, but he was not able to get a solid proof.

So I kept my game running. I won some games at 4-Cross, and then moved up to a bigger arena, the Skull Mountain. It was a hilly arena, nicknamed 'Golgotha' by locals because of obvious reason. This arena was one step closer to Light Championship, and often top-ranked fighters ruled the Skull Mountain before moving to Cathay.

As I guided my _Wasp_ to the position, I pondered about my life in Solaris. I came to Solaris to work as a technician. I even rejected Daniels' offer for the first time. But now, I could not stop fighting. The magical atmosphere of death and destruction sucked me deeper and deeper into Solaris' arenas. I was too engrossed in fighting to realize that it had been more than a year that I last saw Evee. How fast time flew! Her voice was still ringing in my ears, and her lips still felt warm on my cheek. I could not believe I have lost her that long ago. Sometimes I thought about what she was doing on the other part of the galaxy.

Was she thinking about me? Had she moved on? Was she thinking about Kyle Garret? I did not see why not. It was fine if Evee needed somebody to lean on. Carver V was a hard campaign, and Kyle was a fine young gentleman. I could have understood the situation, especially because I was not there. But they were both _freeborns_. They were perfect fits for each other. Unlike me, Kyle would understand her completely. True, Kyle had a fiancée, who was just as smart and attractive as Evee. But would it stop Evee from finding comfort in Kyle? Would it stop Kyle from taking advantage of Evee's vulnerability? And why should I be bothered by these thoughts?

I could not believe I was thinking about these things while I went to battle.

I shrugged off my imagination and focused on the battlefield. There were 8 combatants, placed on the outer rim of the hill, facing the top. When the game started, they would either sprint to the top or looped around the hill to fight others. I cleared my mind and focused only on the other players. The strongest mech was a _Talon_, piloted by a Lyran ace by the name of Arnold Schwartz. Another strong player was Mo Keenan, a Liao loyalist in a _Raven_. The rest were archetypal newcomers.

The horn blasted, and I quickly switched to passive radar. It was the smartest thing to do, considering I was the smallest combatant in the field. The _Raven_ went to fight an _Owens_, and the _Talon_ charged a _Koto_. That left a _Garm_ to fight me. This was a fairly new mech, almost twice as big as my _Wasp_, equipped with an LBX-5 and missiles. On the good side, the _Garm_ was ammo-dependent. However, one shot of that LBX-5 could shred my armor to pieces. I had to be careful.

The _Garm_ charged me full speed, trying to get its fragmented cannon to firing range. I hid behind the hill, and when it was close enough, I fired up my jets to soar high above its head. My sudden maneuver stunned the _Garm_; it trailed me but its gyro movement was not quick enough to put me on its crosshair. I landed 75 meters behind it, making 90-degree angle with its back. I raised my right arm and singe its rear armor, which dripped to the ground like steaming blood. I followed up with my missiles, one of which hit the Garm's right torso from behind, pushing the mech forward. Smartly it used the momentum to turn 90-degree angle and barked its gun. I threw myself to the left, and a couple fragments from its cannon hit me on the right arm. No big problem. I fired my pulse laser again, showering its right torso with lasers. The _Garm_ quivered with the loss of mass, and then lit its missiles.

I brought my mech to a full sprint, evading the rashly shot missiles and continued to harass its right torso. Reading what I was doing, the _Garm_ twisted to the right to protect its LBX-5, but by doing so it put me on his own blind spot. I quickly reversed my direction and hit the _Garm_ on the back. Molten ferro-fibers sprayed into the air as my missiles smacked the weakened armor, glowing like a bulb lamp. More and more armor was shed, and soon enough the _Garm_ caught fire.

Hitting someone on the back was not a Clansman way of fighting. But over the time I found out that most rookies did not have adequate piloting skill, so shooting from the back was an effective way to beat them quickly, conserving armor for better opponents. I did not feel remorseful when I peppered the _Garm's_ back, nor I felt sickened fighting for money in Solaris. Actually, this game had become addicting. Not the money, but battles. I was bred for battle, and Solaris indulged my lust for battle.

The _Garm_ twisted and revolved violently, but I never gave it a chance to use its weapons. Hitting its back repeatedly, I shredded its thin rear armor and started digging into the internal structure. A few hits on the crack and I saw sparks, squirting like a waterfall. As a desperate move, the _Garm_ bolstered its jets and turned toward me. Missiles and fragmented shells raced at me as it fired everything it had. I twisted and ducked, missing most of the ballistics, but two missiles stabbed me on the left torso. I endured the quake, and then there was silence.

The _Garm_ needed several seconds to reload, and it was my turn to soar. I felt my body melted into the command seat when the _Wasp_ took off, and I bore the heat spike when I rained down my pulse laser at the 35-ton mech. Its LBX-5 nozzle started to deform, and I sent my SRM to the big gap, seconds before it spit its shell. The entire right torso blossomed into an orange fireball as the ammunition bin went off. Chunks of burning metal filled the air, and the _Garm_ teetered on its heels before slumping to the ground, flat on its back.

By this time, the _Talon_ ace had broken off with the _Koto_, and decided that I was a more appealing target. For such a small frame, the _Talon_ had an immense firepower in its PPC, comparable to _Wolfhound_-3S series. It fired its murderous blue bolt from 800 meters away, blasting a pile of rock just several meters from my position. The ace obviously knew how to use his weapon, so I had to regard him with utmost respect.

I tiptoed behind the hill, putting the terrain between the _Talon_ and me to neutralize its PPC. From my scanner I watched its movement. A smart player that he was, the pilot refused to play my game. He knew quite well that I had to get close to score a hit, so he waited at the farthest corner of the arena, searching for my cockpit to spring from behind the hill.

I had to change my strategy. I would assume he was a good shot, so I could not afford exposure. Perhaps a simple trick would work. I swung around the hill until I was inches away from clearing, then tugged my joystick behind, leaving only my left arm dangling for him to pick up.

The _Talon_ took the bait. A bright azure flash blitzed on the field, and my left arm exploded. I felt a sharp thrust to the left that threw me to the right side of the cockpit. My head slammed into the wall. My console screeched, telling me that my mech suffered from a critical hit. The _Wasp _rocked back and forth, desperately coping for the sudden loss of mass. An instant later the consoles died; a sure sign of electrical failure due to the PPC's high charge. I simply let go of my joystick and let my mech fall to the ground.

The _Talon_ smelled blood, so it raced to meet me, closing the gap to 500 meters. My plan worked, so it was up to my marksmanship to deliver the hard blow to the _Talon_. I fired my jets, and while the _Wasp_ went airborne, I hit my alpha-strike button. Lasers and missiles cored the _Talon's_ left torso, already damaged from its fight with the _Koto_. Fire immediately swathed its left torso, and the _Talon_ fired its lasers to answer my move. But they floated harmlessly behind me, as I descended and touched the ground.

At 400 meters, the PPC's effectiveness was reduced, so I switched target to the _Talon's_ right arm. Two short laser bursts weakened the armor, and two missiles shed half of the molten metal. The _Talon_ writhed and twisted hard, but I used my speed advantage to outmaneuver the _Talon_, placing myself behind its back, trying to repeat what I did to the _Garm_ successfully.

But I underestimated the _Talon_. The pilot reversed direction and swiveled the torso to other direction, catching me on the other side. He was good, really good. His PPC grazed my thigh, and the subsequent lasers burnt the myomer bundles. Once again my cockpit trembled, and my gauges froze. My _Wasp_ careened as the damaged leg dragged it down. And the smell of burning myomer in the cockpit made me sick.

Lucky for me, all those frenetic moves the _Talon_ made pushed its heat level to the critical volume, so it slowed down and dumped some coolant. I barraged its left torso, and my missiles burrowed deep into its weakened structures before erupting. The _Talon_ staggered hard, shoved around by the explosion and the sudden imbalance, and then dropped to one knee. The explosion destroyed its left torso, taking out everything attached to it including the lasers. Fire and smoke billowed from the wound, and it took the 35-ton mech half a minute before it rose to its feet, assuming a fighting stance.

I was impressed by the pilot's aptitude to control the situation, but he was my enemy. I had to subdue him. I figured he was aiming for my damaged leg, so I reversed direction, exposing my good leg at him. He blasted his PPC, but I was too close to him. The PPC bolt streaked across the field and slammed into the hill. Again the _Talon_ slowed down and flushed its coolant. I continued harassing its right arm, and soon enough it started to smoke. Once again it reacted by firing its PPC, and once again it missed. With its backup weapons disabled, its fall was only a matter of time. I knew it, and he knew it.

However, the ace would not go down without a fight. I circled the _Talon_, but he abruptly reversed direction and hit my torso, using his right arm as a battering ram. A loud twisting sound swathed the cockpit. I clenched my jaw, and then groaned as I used my jump jets to get away from it. The hit cleaved my center torso, pulling off a large crack from the right shoulder down to the waist. It was a nasty crack, and he would exploit my wound to the bitter end. That was what I would do if I were he.

So I ducked as he fired his PPC. The bolt passed my head, but managed to vaporize my antennae. I got up and showered its PPC-laden arm with lasers and missiles. The _Talon_ dodged most of my missiles, but my lasers drilled cavities all along its right arm. When the mech slowed down, I fired my missiles, ending the misery of its right arm. Three consecutive explosions tore the shoulder joint apart, and the right arm dangled on few strands of myomer.

With no weapons left, the _Talon_ wisely shut down and yielded.

Meanwhile, the _Raven_ had beaten the _Owens_ and now fought the _Koto_. Both had battle scars, shredded armors and mangled weapons. But they kept going at it. The _Koto_ put up a respectable fight against the Capellan's ace, but it was simply outgunned, outweighed, and outsmarted. Its superior speed could not help it against the razor-sharp precision of the _Raven,_ which became obvious would emerge the victor.

From my point of view, I would prefer to fight the _Koto_ than the _Raven_, although both mechs had reached _combat loss grouping_. The _Raven_ was an ace almost twice my size, while the _Koto_ was a regular with just 5 tons extra. But I could not hope for miracle. The _Koto_ would loose, that much was ascertained. Well, unless I did something about it. The _Raven_ was busy, so my sneak attack would paralyze it at the least.

Dishonorable? Had I been in Wolf Clan rank, _aff_, it would have been dishonorable. I could be thrown into _Dark Caste_ if it made public. But here? I was not a Wolf anymore, nobody knew me, and I made more dishonorable acts prior to Solaris. My _zellbrigen_ had been contaminated by Inner Sphere's way of fighting, so what would it matter if I won this fight by pot shots? Besides, Solaris had no rule against sneak attack. _All is fair in love and war._

So I waited until the _Raven_ and the _Koto_ were tangled in the middle of the hill. I gunned my engine toward the mechs and unleashed everything I had. The _Raven_ jerked behind, taking the shots with its remaining armor, then swiveled frantically to get me on its crosshair. But I saw a big hole on its missile launcher, and I strafed the hole with several bursts of laser. The entire right torso of the _Raven_ exploded like fireworks, spewing brilliant flashes and metal splinters as the missiles were incinerated.

The ammo explosion split the _Raven_ into two, but at the same time clobbered the _Koto_ that was standing very close to it. The burning splinters flayed the 25-ton mech, peeling the last remaining armor, and lodged into the delicate structure underneath its ferro-fibrous hide. Fire engulfed half of the body while several large chunks destroyed its left arm and its left kneecap. Battered and overheated, the _Koto_ limped away to safety.

I paced my _Wasp_ until I stood directly in front of the burning mech. I would have asked the pilot to surrender, but my antennae were busted by the _Talon_. I simply raised my right arm and pointed at the _Koto_, painfully limping through the battlefield. The pilot should have seen me, and if he was smart, he knew that I demanded his surrender. But he kept moving forward with a steady gait as if it did not see me. I did not know if the pilot was dead or he simply ignored me. I hit my trigger, and my missiles showered the mech, turning it into a gigantic fireball. The flashes blinded me for a moment, and when it subsided, only charred hulk remained.

I had won so many games that this one felt just like any other victory. However, when I parked my mech on the repair bay, Daniels was waiting underneath my mech. The glimmer on his face told me that he had good news, although I suspected it was good news for him personally.

"Good game, good game!" he grinned as I touched down. "This just arrived. You have been invited as a wild card to Cathay! Do you know what it means, Parker? Do you know what it means?"

"No," I replied, confused by the sudden burst of excitement from my manager.

"You're going to light championship! You have a shot to win Solaris Light Circuit Champion! You have never entered the championship officially, but you're number 3 in Solaris light circuit roster. That's why you got invited. Imagine how much money we could have if you win it!"

"Am I?" this news sounded a bit odd to me, because I never thought I was top-five in light circuit. "Who is number one?"

"Ah, just a Davion jerk you don't want to know," Daniels replied. "Something…Garret."

"Kyle?" I squinted involuntarily. "Is Kyle Garret the top fighter?"

"You know him?" Daniels threw a funny look at me. "How do you know him?"

"Does it matter?" I pressed him. "Is he on the championship?"

"Yes, he is the top fighter, and yes, he is on the championship!" Daniels responded, clearly irritated. "Don't be afraid! I am familiar with Davion's fighting style, and they're not different than fighters from the periphery! You'll be able to dispose him easily."

"Afraid? On the contrary, Mr. Daniels, I am ready for him," I replied.

"Good! The fight is January 28. You have plenty of time to prepare. Now don't take this lightly! You'll be pitted with 16 of the best mechwarriors in Solaris! You have to work hard, but I know you can pull it off. And remember, winning this will give us 6-million c-bills! Enough to buy a damn new mech!"

Daniels went on with his vent on how the money would save our lives, but I was never interested at the money. I wanted to face Kyle Garret in a duel. It was disturbing, considering I had not felt so strongly about somebody except Evee. I did not know why he bothered me so much despite his kindness, but I just had the urge to beat him.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX **

_**Liao Jungle Arena, Cathay,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**January 28, 3063**_

The Jungle Arena was home of the light- and heavy- circuit championship. The arena was a giant rectangular bulk that covered a huge landmass covered in exotic vegetations. Most of them would be trampled in mech bashing, but the manager always found a way to put in new plants, giving the arena a beautiful scene of a rainforest. Waterfalls added the hallmark of the scene, and although its purpose was solely aesthetic, mechwarriors often found it convenient to cool off their mechs under the waterfalls.

Since Capellan loyalists monopolized Cathay, Capellan-backed players were always expected to win at Jungle Arena. This tendency was apparent on the composition of fighters: out of 16 finalists, six were Capellans. Two were Davions, three were Mariks, and only 1 representative from House Steiner. The rest were journeymen and wild cards, in which I belonged.

I checked the fighter's list Daniels gave me. Half of the mechs were Clan made, which came as a bit of surprise. Popular belief had it said that Clan technologies were better than those of the Spheroid. They were lighter, faster, more versatile, and had more range. In reality, Clan-made mechs were less armored and less robust than the Inner Sphere counterparts. Clan energy weapons created too much heat. Plus, the scarcity of parts made the Clan technologies really expensive. But despite these shortages, they were highly in demand at Solaris.

I also noticed Kyle Garret, the number one seed in this championship. He was fighting in a WLF-2 _Wolfhound_. The mech was Davion's answer to Kurita's _Jenner_, designed as hunter-killer instead of traditional light-mech role as scout. Its armor level was thick enough to withstand punishment from medium mechs, and the quadruple medium lasers were nice back up to its venomous ER large laser. Although I fought _Wolfhounds_ prior to this fight, I had never fought one with an ace in it. From my experience, the good pilots were not always the ones with the best mechs. But today, I would fight the best mechwarrior in the field in one of the best light mechs around. It was going to be a hard fight.

As I led my mech into the arena, my comlink blinked. I pushed the button, and it was the one I expected to see the least. "Congratulation, Parker! You made it to the big game."

"Same to you," I replied. "May the best mechwarrior win."

"May the best mechwarrior win," Kyle stated. "Good luck!"

I stopped at my designated spot and scanned the arena. Kyle was on my left, separated by a _Panther_ and a _Raven_. A Free-World _Jackal_ perched on my right, then a _Kit Fox B_, piloted by the number 2 seed Thunder Thorley, a veteran of Liao's Death Commandos. He was the hometown hero, and more than half Cathay population was behind his back. Davion and Liao relation was never smooth, especially after the St. Ives Compact was reintegrated into Capellan territory. So Thorley would be hard-pressed to dispose of Kyle quickly. It was the most anticipated duel in this championship, and it could work best for me. I could wait until they finished bashing each other. Whoever won the grudge match, he would be half-baked, so I would just swoop in and finish what was left.

The announcer went through tedious names of the finalists, then after a long ceremony, the warriors were cued to get ready. Once the horn blasted, Thorley dashed quickly through the field, passing my mech without even taking a glance, and charged Kyle. Exactly my prediction. The _Raven_ held off the _Panther_ while the _Dart_ on my right turned around and attacked me. I would love to stalk Thorley, see how it went with Kyle, but first I had to take care of the _Jackal_.

I had fought a light mech with a PPC before, and although it had incredible punching power, it was virtually useless in a close-quarter combat. Lucky for me, we started at 300 meters apart, so I quickly dove and let a streak of blue electrical charge swerved above my head. I sent my missiles toward its right torso, but a small cannon on the _Jackal's_ torso belched and ate my missiles before they hit the target. Damn AMS.

I decided to conserve my missiles and work on the _Jackal_ using only my pulse laser. Two strands cored the large-bored cannon on its right shoulder. They left a couple of pockmarks on the hull, but failed to do damage. The _Jackal_ raised its left arm and let loose its own missiles. One of them hooked and rocked the ground inches away from my left feet. I held my joystick tight as my _Wasp_ lurched to the right. The _Jackal_ trailed me and fired his second round of PPC. I fired my jump jets to propel me ahead, and the PPC bolt vaporized a tree. The entire plant vanished into organic mist.

The _Jackal_ would need to cool off, and I had to use it to my greatest advantage. I came back with a vengeance, powering up my pulse laser to the point of overheating. Half a dozen bursts slammed into the _Jackal's_ right torso, turning the armor plating into orange bubbling gooey. Three more bursts cored the center torso. I was aiming at the AMS, but that small nozzle was hard to hit, especially because the pilot was an ace who knew the ups and downs of his mech. So I concentrated on the large PPC hole, hoping I could dismantle it with repeated blows.

My face was soaked by sweat and my vision was almost obscured, but I overrode the automatic shut down and rode on the heat as long as I could. But the heat slowed my mech down, and eventually the _Jackal_ caught me with its missiles. The sound of explosion ripped my eardrums as I clung on to the command seat. The _Jackal_ was surely aiming for a quick victory, firing his missiles at my cockpit. The plexiglass canopies burst, and the cockpit armor went blinking red, but there was no damage. Nevertheless, I could not afford that kind of hit again.

Shrugging off the vertigo, I fought to get on my feet and peppered the _Jackal's_ front armor. The Marik greeted me with a murderous bolt, but it went wide, grilling a pile of rock instead. My heat tracker was already two-third of shut down level, but I kept firing, flushing my coolant once in a while to control the heat. The _Jackal's_ armor on the right torso turned bright red, and a couple more shot made it blinking. Smoke twirled from the maimed gun, and the big gaping hole had partially deformed.

But the _Jackal_ was not ready to concede yet. With me running slower and slower, it fired the missiles at me. One hit me on the hip, the other carved a cavity on my right arm. The armor tracker turned orange, so I needed to protect my right arm more because it held the pulse laser. I switched direction but two more missiles decked me right on the center. Tongues of fire licked from the impact as my mech swayed backward, but I fired my jets before I completely lost balance. The _Wasp_ soared, and the _Jackal_ pushed on its luck by firing its PPC. The bolt almost grazed my leg, but missed nevertheless.

Regaining balance as I landed, I pushed my mech forward, firing everything I got at the PPC hole. The _Jackal_ returned fire with its missiles, but I took the hits, maintaining my course while peppering its right torso. I wanted to end it now. The right torso engulfed in fire, and my last shot finally singed the big cannon. A burst of electrical charge leapt from the torso as a large fireball expanded, tearing the torso apart. The mech bent over, trying to keep standing in the midst of explosion. But the shockwave was too strong, and it twisted before it slumped.

As the _Jackal_ writhed in the ground, I inspected the battlefield. Somehow Kyle and Thorley had broken off their engagement, and now they were fighting separately. Kyle was fighting a _Panther_ while Thorley had just killed an _Incubus_. I did not know how their initial engagement went, but from the armor level of Thorley, I could tell that they went at it really intense. Thorley's center torso was visibly blackened, and the armor tracker was already blinking red. But he still fought like a madman, and now paced his mech to my direction.

The _Jackal_ regained its footing, but before it could spread its missiles, Thorley executed it from behind. The combined power of Clan lasers and UAC-10 was too much for its rear armor. The _Jackal_ hunched forward before disintegrating into a fireball. The shockwave shoved my mech behind, and the burning titanium chunks rained down on me, setting up minor fire on several parts of my body.

"I hope you're not as cowardly as the Davion captain," I heard Thorley snarled. "I want a tight fight."

"Tight fight? Then what did you call your rear shot at the _Jackal_?" I fumed.

"That Marik wasn't worth my time," Thorley hissed. "I see you use some Clan maneuvers. Slick moves, but don't expect them to work against me. So let's finish this and see how much of a Clan impostor you are!"

_Clan impostor_, he said? That comment shot my wrath to the roof. Clan impostor? I _was_ a Clan mechwarrior! Although I did not remember what it was like to be a Clan mechwarrior, everything was in my blood. I would teach this punk what it was like to fight a Clan mechwarrior. "If there is an impostor, it is you Thorley. You are the one who are embalmed in Clan technology."

"Ha, you queef like one too!" Thorley chortled. "Come on _trashborn_, bring on what you've got!"

I knew he had no idea that I was once a Clansman, but being addressed as _trashborn_ still pushed me to the limit. I hit my jump jets and hurled my missiles at him. Thorley easily sidestepped my attack and replied with his lasers. They drilled my center torso, which instantaneously turned red. He was a good shot, and I was lucky that he did not use his UAC-10. I realized that I was provoked by his trash talk, so I held my advance and slowed down as I returned to the ground. Thorley lunged forward and pumped his UAC-10, and the double-shelled shot hit me on the left torso.

It hurt. Bad.

My vision tunneled down to a grey dot as massive quake rocked the cockpit. Warning signs flashed across the console, and digitized human voice blended with sickening twisted sound, splitting my ears. My left side was virtually untouched, but the UAC-10 shells carved a deep hole straight through the armor, gashing the titanium frame that held myomer and electronics. Acrid smell of burning myomer filled the cockpit. Fire raged out of control, and the left arm was jammed. The _Wasp_ reeled, but I just let it slide.

While bringing up my mech on its feet, I thought about how I could get pass this brute. Of course he had a good standing! He had a light mech that could host almost any weapon; even a medium mech pilots found it to be a beast. But there had to be a drawback, putting such a huge weapon on such a small frame like the _Kit Fox_. How was it affected by the weight of the UAC-10? The most logical consequence was the weight of the gun would slow down the _Kit Fox_ severely. So could I outmaneuver it? That was the question, concerning my mech had lost a lot of armor and power. But it was the only plausible solution.

I got up and set a course 90 degrees from Thorley's line of fire. He showered me with his lasers, two of which drilled my right hip, but failed to do serious damage. I pushed my mech to run faster and circle Thorley, away from its UAC-10. Thorley fired his monster, but the mammoth cannons zipped past my back, harmlessly splashing into the water. I returned fire with pulse laser. The center torso burst into flame, harassed by Kyle Garret prior to this fight, and sparks began spewing out of the wound. I followed up with my missiles, but Thorley was quick to duck and avoid them.

Thorley fired his lasers, showering me with green strands while waiting for his giant gun to reload. I shot my pulse laser again, shedding more armor from his center torso, until he was ready for another shot. The autocannon thundered out and flung its twin rounds at me, but I was ready for it. I yanked my joystick backward as hard as I could. My _Wasp_ skidded to a halt, and Thorley's autocannon rounds shrilled right in front of my cockpit. A cloud of dust rose as the twin rounds buried itself on the ground, a hundred meters away from where I stood.

I bombarded Thorley's center torso with my laser, then released my missiles before escaping to the left. One of the missiles slammed into Thorley's weakened armor, and a small explosion staggered the Clan mech. The _Kit Fox_ turned into a flaming hulk. Thorley twisted to the left, covering his vulnerable torso with his good arm. I scored some hits on his arm, then moved away when I thought Thorley was ready with his autocannon.

Thorley swiveled to the right, but the smoke must have hindered him from finding me. He spent a couple of minutes adjusting his torso, then fired his UAC-10 but still missed me by half a meter. I wondered if I broke his targeting computer with my last missile strike. Nevertheless, it was my time. I fired my alpha strike, hitting the _Kit Fox_ repeatedly on the center. Thorley retaliated with blind laser blast, and one sucker punch hit me on the left torso. I felt a sharp twist as my torso exploded, discarding my entire left arm. But lucky for me, all my weapons were still active. I manipulated the joystick to make my mech stood for my final onslaught.

The _Kit Fox_ barked its UAC-10 again, but the marksmanship was nowhere near my position. I launched everything I had while waltzing forward, closing in on the Clan mech. Sparks and smoke billowed from the gutted torso, and one final strike burnt the _Kit Fox_ in a brilliant bonfire. The 30-ton omnimech was split into 2 as the reactor breached. Blue flame danced, ripping it up from the inside. Then a big orange fireball blossomed, covering the vicinity with tiny bits of titanium.

I leaned on my command couch, closing my eyes for a moment while the fireball subsided into sparks. I just disposed Thunder Thorley, the hometown hero, and I wondered what it meant to my life. I beat Difalco and the Grey Wolves came to harm me. Now the entire city of Cathay would see me as their number one enemy. I might not be able to set foot on this arena, ever again. Let alone walking in Cathay. I heard Solaris citizens took their games very seriously.

But Cathay could wait. Standing in front of me was a _Wolfhound_ bearing the FedCom insignia on its torso. It was the only mech standing, aside from mine. Almost all of its armor had been wiped out. One of its medium lasers on the torso had been dismantled. But the ER large laser was still functional, and that was all what mattered to me. I had no doubt that Kyle could use it in any range possible.

"We're the only ones left," Kyle spoke through the comlink. "Although you just _had_ to take the worse part by killing Thorley."

"I could not have done it if you did not hurt him so much," I replied. "I would share the kill with you."

"People won't see it that way, not here on Solaris anyway. You'll always be remembered as the one that slay Thunder Thorley."

"So be it, then," I drew a deep breath. "Guard yourself, Kyle Garret. May the best warrior win."

"May the best warrior win," Kyle responded and started running in a circle. He knew very well that he had range advantage, so he kept the distance between us bigger than 500 meters. I was in a serious disadvantage. The only way I could beat a _Wolfhound_ with a _Wasp_ was by shooting it from its blind spot. I knew it was close to impossible, but I did not have any choice.

So I used the terrain and the vegetations as cover, trying to get close to Kyle, but he knew what I was doing. He maintained his range advantage, firing his large lasers once in a while to keep me at bay. He would not let me close the gap, and he would rather drag our duel into an endurance contest rather than take a huge risk being pummeled by a _Wasp_. This game could last for hours, and I just did not have the patience to do it.

When I hid behind a hill, I decided to climb the hill up to the very top. Then I used my jump jets to fly across the arena, bombarding Kyle's position with my pulse laser. Kyle did not expect me to take such a foolish action, so it took him a while before he fired his large laser. The crimson beam cut through my right arm, dismantling my pulse laser. But it was a worthy sacrifice. I cut the distance to 350 meters, and quickly fired my missiles at his midst. The _Wolfhound_ backpedaled to withstand the assault, and fire covered the lower part of its abdomen. I thought I destroyed another one of its medium lasers.

Now I had to wait before I could launch again. I jerked my mech behind, but Kyle caught me with a sharp thrust to the torso. I smelled this sickening scent of burning armor rising into the cockpit. I ran to another direction, but he hit me again with his large laser. My power bar dropped to 60 percent. I knew I did not have enough time. I had one more chance to hit him, and hopefully it was the one that would dismantle the mech.

I changed direction, now dashing straight at the _Wolfhound_, my thumb atop the trigger. As soon as I heard the ready sound, I mashed it several times. The twin warheads smacked the _Wolfhound_ on its left torso. The lanky mech twisted to the left, pushed by the momentum of the missiles and the ferocity of the explosions. The entire left torso blew up, taking half of the _Wolfhound's_ upper body in a fiery explosion. It wobbled, and for the moment I thought the battle was over.

However, I underestimated the strength of the _Wolfhound_. It came back, and its right arm blazed with radiant light. My _Wasp_ was simply not a match against this mech. The large laser cut through the remaining armor of my center torso, and broiled the generator. A series of explosions rocked my mech, and against my will, I was thrown out of the cockpit before my _Wasp_ crumbled, dissolving into a fiery mist.

I floated in the air for a while, listening to the announcer paying homage to Kyle Garret, gliding in a parachute. When I hit the ground, the arena car collected me along with some other survivors. I did not see Thunder Thorley among the survivors. I guessed the explosion took him. In the distance, the _Wolfhound_ limped toward the hangar, blazing and smoking but anyway intact.

The car arrived just as the _Wolfhound_ rested on the mechbay. The techs carried Kyle from the cockpit down to the bottom and raced to congratulate him. It took him a while before he came to me, and with a big grin he offered me his hand.

"Respectable fight, Parker," he clenched my hand. "I'm glad it was you."

"Congratulation," I replied coldly. "You are now the arena champion."

"Excuse me… excuse me… hey Garret!" suddenly Captain Morton cut through the crowd and quickly came to Kyle's presence. The twitch in his face told me he was not there to congratulate Kyle. "The mobs are out of control outside. They want blood. Parker's blood."

"Crap," Kyle's face turned grieved. "This is why I didn't finish off Thorley. Damn you Parker, why did you have to do it?" He punched his personal comlink, "Nat, where are you?"

"The dropship is armed and ready," Natalie's digitized voice sprung from the comlink. "If you can get here in 5 minutes, we'll be airborne before the mobs can get to us."

"My chopper's upstairs on the deck," Morton pointed out. "Get up there and get out of here... fast!"

"My thanks," Kyle tapped Morton's shoulder. "Nat, we're coming. I'm taking Parker."

"What?" I bickered. "I am not going with you!"

Kyle turned around and crunched my arm. "You don't understand. You've just killed Cathay's national hero. These mobs will eat you alive! You can _not_ stay here!"

"I am not going with you!" I slapped Kyle's hand. "I will be fine! Just go and save yourself!"

Unexpectedly, Kyle drew his gun and shoved it under my chin. "Parker, I'd rather you die of my head shots rather than getting minced by Liao loyalists. So for the last time, come with me to the chopper or I'll kill you right here!"

"But where are we going?"

"Tecumseh… my home."

"What am I supposed to do at Tecumseh?"

Kyle dropped his gun, smiling and winking at me in a funny way. "Have you been to a wedding?"

* * *


	7. Chapter 7 Valentine Edition

**SEVEN **

**  
Note:** I suck at romance. But in the spirit of Valentine's Day, here it is: **I, Ke2ensky - Valentine Edition**. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**_St. Paul Cathedral, Whitetail Ridge,  
Tecumseh, Kathil PDZ,  
_**_**Capellan March, Federated Commonwealth,  
**__**April 26, 3063**_

I never understood this 'wedding' business. Why did two people, who were madly in love, had to go through this process to be together? Why did they have to register to be together? Why did they have to invite families and friends to party? I did not understand why Spheroids celebrated a bond between a man and a woman in a convoluted way. From my point of view, it was a complete waste of time. But I guessed it was part of being Spheroids.

A week before the wedding, Kyle took me to a tailor. He ordered me a special suit called 'tuxedo'. It was basically a very neat pair of clothing. I had no idea that people made this kind of suit, and it felt a bit 'icky' to me. As far as I could remember, I wore shirt and pants all the time, and I was sure I did not wear tuxedo during my Clan years. This so-called tuxedo hindered my movement a lot, but it did make me look good on the mirror.

The day before the wedding, everybody gathered at some kind of temple to rehearse. Kyle would stand at the front, then a horde of men called 'groomsmen' were to pick up women, the 'bridesmaids', and walk through the aisle between rows of seats. These 'forced' pairs would be the prelude for Natalie, who would walk in our steps to meet Kyle. The officiating minister would read some ritual, and then Kyle and Natalie would exchange 'vows'. Then a big party ensued.

Kyle and Natalie agreed to add me as a groomsman, and I was in no position to object or negotiate, so I just did what he told me. My 'forced' mate was Kyle's long-time friend, Zoë Catherine. She was a very nice girl, although she mentioned that she was paired with me just as a temporary substitute. She already had a mate, and she would very much prefer to pair with her own mate. Of course she would. I would prefer not to be in this ceremony, but Kyle made us do things against our wishes. But since Kyle saved my life from Liao's mobs, I could at least grant him his wish and follow the rite without much complains.

The other groomsmen were members of Kyle's unit, the Shooting Stars. Two particular members stood up because they were ex-Jade Falcon. I still carried the memory of Jerome Helmer with me, so at first I was at strained companionship with them. But later I learnt that these ex-Clansmen had integrated into the Inner Sphere much more than I had. They admitted that now they belonged to the Shooting Star unit, working for Federated Commonwealth.

The wedding day. The bells rang, the seats were full of guests, the music transcended, the flowers fumed, and people waited with high anticipation for the two lovers to join together. Kyle was enrobed in glee and splendor. Natalie was nowhere to be seen, but I suspected her entrance would be the highlight of the hour. I stood there like an idiot, questioning what the big deal was, until it was time for groomsmen to pick up the bridesmaids. I stepped forward to fetch my bridesmaid, but to my utter surprise, she was not the one that I rehearsed with.

She was Evee. _My Evee_.

For a moment I froze in panic. Nobody mentioned anything about Evee being in this ceremony, and I should have guessed it, but somehow I overlooked it. It was unlike me, missing obvious details. Unbelievably ignorant. I could not meet her like this. I felt miserable in this tuxedo, and sweat beaded on my forehead. I stood still, staring at her with fiasco in my mind, until she gestured me to keep moving toward her, smiling at my awkward discomfort. I came back to my senses, and I offered her my right hand, into which Evee hooked her left.

"I always imagine how you look in a tuxedo," she whispered while we walked in the aisle. "And I'm not disappointed. You look marvelous."

"Where were you yesterday?" I fired off my anxiety, almost in full force. "Why did you miss the rehearsal? Why does nobody inform me about you?"

"Delay, delay, and delay," she explained in a whisper. "My flight stuck in the middle of nowhere. I should have been here last week, but instead I just arrived a couple hours ago. But Kyle never mentioned that you were going to be here either. What brought you here?"

"My inability to reject Kyle's persuasive invitation," I smiled.

"Yeah, sounds like Kyle," she responded, holding my arm tighter. "Anyway, good to see you again."

"Always the same," I held her hand closely. "Always the same."

I had lots to ask, but we had to follow the ceremony and parted for a moment. We stood at the opposite side of the row. I could not believe what I saw. She was a goddess, wrapped in pink satin dress. Her low cut underlined her naked shoulder and her cleavage, still as firm as the way I always remembered it. Her golden hair was partially tucked behind her head, with a train of small flowers as the headband. And she wore this angelic smile of hers, generously showing it to me all the time. I had never seen her like this, and even in my wildest imagination, I could not possibly come up with this unearthly landscape that was she.

She was beautiful.

I could not get my eyes off her. Even when Natalie made her grand entrance, I could not stop gazing at Evee. My eyes watched her the entire time, throughout the ceremony, to the point the official announced Mr. and Mrs. Kyle Garret, my eyes were glued to her. I did not know what it was, but her smile seemed a thousand times prettier than what I always remembered. Perhaps it was her dress. Or perhaps it was her make up. Or perhaps I was carried away by the entire wedding ambience. I did not know.

Then it was time for us to leave, so I picked her up and escorted her to the second level of the building. It was a madhouse, a completely different atmosphere than the first. People talked, laughed, yelled, joked, ranted, vented, gossiped… all kinds of things. Kyle and Natalie initiated the toast and dance, and then everybody followed their step into the dance floor.

I sat on a table with Evee watching people lost themselves in joyous celebration. Our eyes met a number of times, but nobody said anything. There were so many memories, good and bad, that we did not know what to start. We just indulged ourselves in each other's presence, and sunk ourselves in those memories.

"You look beautiful today, Evee," I finally had the courage to break the ice. "You always are, but today you are…" I could not finish my sentence.

"Thank you," she smiled oh-so-beautifully. "Amazing what make-up artists can do to you, don't you think? Hey, you look pretty yourself. I see that you and Kyle are prizefighter buddies now."

"Not exactly buddies," I cringed. "More like friendly rivals."

"Too bad," she shook her head. "He's a great guy. But the least I can imagine of you is fighting for money. I can't understand how you discard your annoying philosophies and go into prizefighting. Aren't you always the one who says prizefighting degenerates the sanctity of war? You caught me off guard here."

I sighed. I could only offer one explanation. "Man changes."

"Of course you do," Evee drew a deep breath. "And I hope it's for your better deed."

"I hope so too," I reclined on my chair. "How about you?"

"Fine, can't complain," she nodded. "The first half year was really hard. I thought losing my father was the lowest point of my life. Clearly, I was mistaken. But over time I realized that I lived in reality, and I just couldn't get everything I wanted. So I wrote a proposal to my employers, and from what I heard, the chance of getting a grant is very good. Soon I'll be doing what any girl loves to do: shopping. My dream is to command an RCT, so we are recruiting, training, and buying assets. Three runaways from Dieron Light Brigade had joined my force. These ex-Kuritan warriors provided invaluable skills and experiences for the locals."

Her words tore up an old wound. The whole gamut of our time together went back into my mind like a torrential rain, from the moment we first met, to the moment we parted in a flood of tears. I remembered every detail of what we did together. And albeit I was the one that wanted it to end, I could not count the times when I regretted my decision. I understood what she went through, and I was relieved that she handled everything just fine.

"That is quite an accomplishment," I smiled. "Your father must be proud of you. Evee, explain me something," I paused for a moment, gathering everything that had been bugging me. "What is so special about wedding? Why do you have to do odd things just to be together with your partner? Can you just go together?"

"A wedding is a celebration of love and commitment," Evee cooed, grinning from ear to ear. "Two individuals in love with each other will promise that they will stay with their partner in any circumstances. No forces can separate them. Their bond is like a chain that will only break if one, or both of them, dies. Some couples choose the traditional rites like this one. Others go for simplicity and elope, just the way you said. I guess Kyle and Natalie want it to be a traditional one."

"But why do you have to make it so complicated?"

"You won't understand, and you are not supposed to understand. Weddings are…" Evee paused, blushing like a red rose. "Weddings are girls' one-time show. We dream a wedding since we're toddlers. Perfection differs from girl to girl, but we all want the same: a perfect wedding. Being in a wedding means being the prettiest girl in the entire hall, and surely, getting the most attention. But that's not the most important thing. We want to be pretty for the men we choose, the men we love, the 'perfect' men who will love us just the same thirty years from now, when we are not pretty anymore. We want to be happy."

"And how do you know if someone is the perfect man?"

Evee did not answer right away. She averted her eyes, watching Kyle and Natalie dancing on the center, followed by a bunch of half-drunk couples. Her eyes spurted envy as her pupils followed the happy couple wherever they went. "We know. It's not science. We don't know how we know, we just know."

My next question was just on the tip of my tongue, but I reined it in. I did not want to invade this territory with my lack of knowledge, especially when Evee was the one who would weather my ignorance. I already damaged her mood, I did not want to ruin the entire evening for her.

"I am sorry I made you upset," I quickly tried to control the damages. "I just try to make sense of everything."

"I know you do," she smiled, deftly covering her glassy eyes. "You always do, Parker. Sometimes I wonder if you would discard that smug, proud, Clan-way of thinking of yours and see things from a Spheroid's perspective. You think too much."

"I sincerely apologize. Is there anything that I can make it up to you?"

She glanced at Kyle and Natalie again, and when the music changed to a slower, mellow tune, she grabbed my arm and tugged it, grinning widely, "Dance with me."

_Dance? _She knew quite well that I could not dance. My body was designed to fight, not to move in harmony with the music. That, and the absence of practice, would put me in a very humiliating position. I did not understand why, of all the things that we could do, she chose to dance.

"Evee, I uh…" I chuckled in nervousness. "I cannot dance."

"You speak of it as if it's a death execution," she snickered, tugging my hand even more. "Come on, I'll show you. Now I need you to relax. Grab my right hand with your left, and put your right hand under my shoulder blade. Look into my eyes, and feel the music. Regard it as a breeze that blows into you. Then sway slowly. Follow the music. Don't think, just feel."

I did everything she told me, but they just did not work right.

"Don't move like a robot. Relax, Parker. Don't put too much pressure. You have to move with your feelings. You're the cloud, and the music is the wind. So move with the wind."

I tried the best I could, but this was just not my territory, and I wonder what I was thinking when I complied to dance with Evee. But she never complained about me embarrassing her. She kept her eye contact, encouraging me in funny metaphors like winds, clouds, water, rain, leaves, and other natural phenomena. Sometimes I wondered why I fell in love with her. We had nothing in common whatsoever.

But after a while, with her constant encouragements and instructions, finally I got the hang of it. I still moved like a robot, but I slowly got the idea how to move in sync with the music. I could not describe the sensation. It was weird, fun, confusing, scary, and disheartening at the same time, but it gave me a sense of closeness to Evee the way I could have never imagined. We moved together in a perfect harmony, with the music as our energy.

"You feel it?" she chimed in glee. "That's better. Keep going, you'll love it!"

Then the music changed to a very harmonious one. I listened to the lyric, and somewhat the music moved me to my deepest end. The similarity with our life was eerie, as if the song was written specifically for us. I affirmed my grip on Evee's hand and drew her closer, until she rested her head on my shoulder. Together we swayed as the song filled the air. The feel of her skin on my fingertips brought back so many memories of our passion, that I started thinking maybe – just maybe – we can work everything out.

_I can't remember what I used to do  
Who I trusted, whom I listened to before  
I swear you've taught me everything I know  
Can't imagine needing someone so  
But through the years it seems to me I need you more and more_

_Through the years, through all the good and bad  
I knew how much we had  
I've always been so glad to be with you  
Through the years it's better everyday  
You've kissed my tears away  
As long as it's okay I'll stay with you_

"Aw, Parker," Evee moaned. "What a great life we had, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," I replied gently on her ear. "I do not know if we can call it a 'life', but it was certainly great. I only wish it could be longer."

"Hm hm," she wrapped her arm around my neck. "Last time we parted, I didn't take it well because I didn't want it to end. I tried to own you and behaved like a brat. It's what makes it hard for both of us. Over the year I realized that some things are just not meant to be. I love you, Parker, I will always do. Parting with you is the hardest thing I have to endure. But it taught me many things. I am not what I am today if you succumbed to my childish plea. So thank you. Thank you for being my perfect man, even though it was only for such a short time."

I wanted to tell her how much I would miss her every day, every week, every year. I wanted to tell her that I lived an empty life without her, that nobody had and nobody would fill in the space the way she did. I gazed into her eyes, then said everything that I should have said long time ago.

I kissed her.

No, I did not say it with words. I said everything what I had to say to her by mashing my lips into her, unleashing months of hunger. Oh, how I missed those lips! Nothing in this forsaken world could match her lips. I could sense her fear, her confusion, her desire, all blended into an initial quiver; afterward, she met my thirst with equal firepower. For a moment, we floated into our own world.

When we parted, she looked into my eyes, and I knew she understood what I wordlessly said. Her eyes twinkled, and a small smile escaped her lips, "Make love to me? For one last time?"

I looked into her eyes, and even though I still could see the sorrow and regret, I knew she was handling it like a warrior that she had always been. "Are you sure it will not complicate our relationship? I mean, we barely get over our parting."

"Parker, I don't know when I will see you again," she replied, "if, I will ever see you again. I want to remember you the best possible way. Unless you want to keep dancing."

No, of course not. I liked the way dancing gave us connection, but like Evee said, I would not want to remember my last time with her embarrassing myself. No, I had enough dancing. I gave her a smile, then towed her to the side behind the counter before slipping away from the crowd. I gave one last gaze at Kyle and Natalie before going straight to the door.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

_**Thor's Shieldhall, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,**_  
**_July 3, 3063_**

Saying goodbye was not an easy thing. On one side, I never really wanted it to end. Deep down I still kept a glint of hope that someday I would find a way to get back together with Evee. Perhaps one day I could regain my memory. On the other side, our last time together opened my eyes that she had moved on. She found a job that suited her best, a job that her father held until the day he died. She was doing what she was born to. And there was no place for me in her new world. A bitter realization, but nevertheless I was happy for her.

So I had to move on the way she did. Captain Morton informed me that the fickle mobs of Solaris had forgotten about the light championship, where Kyle and I tag-teamed Thunder Thorley. The new season had begun, and several big names had wiped out the memory of the light championship. My _Wasp_ was totaled, so John Daniels collected the money I made on the final and, combining it with the junk refund of the _Wasp_, bought a BJ2-OC _Black Jack_. That meant I had to move up to medium circuit.

As champion and runner up of light circuit, Kyle and I were eligible to fight in the elite arenas. But since we missed 3 months of qualification rounds, we had to crawl from _blood pits_ again. I remembered fighting in _blood pits_ last year. Most of the combatants were in desperate need of gunnery practice. They could not shoot straight. In medium circuit, the combatants should be a lot better than in the light circuit. I just hoped that the fight would keep me occupied and helped me forget Evee.

"I've seen that look," Emi stopped by my table. "I've seen a face like yours too many times in this place. Care to elaborate?"

"Thank you Emi, I am fine," I smiled at her.

"You know Parker, sometimes the best solution to a grievous predicament is by coughing it up," she took a chair in front of me. "We listen to you, and even though we are not trained in psychology, we can come up with the most plausible solution to your problems. So try me. It won't hurt talking to a waitress."

"I do not have any problem," I sipped my beer. "I just… miss someone."

"Girlfriend? Wife? Family member?"

I look at her, watching the honest aura in her face. "The best thing that ever happened to me."

"I heard that one a lot. A man can't have two passions in his life. Women and fighting are just not match."

I smiled. Of course she assumed that I lost Evee because I spent too much time fighting in the arenas. Yes, I understood if it was a regular occurrence in a bar like Thor's Shieldhall. But I had no desire explaining every little detail of my problem to Emi. She was a nice girl, but I was not an extrovert.

"Would you let your husband or boyfriend fight in the arena?" I deflected her question.

"I dated one, years ago," she sighed. "I had no problem with it. Life is short, and if you don't make the most of it, you'll die miserable. No, my problem is not the fighting. It's the social status of Solaris that I hate the most. You know, as soon as a mechwarrior gains a rank, he has to assume a new lifestyle and go to Valhalla Club." She mused for a moment, then jerked from the chair. "Uh… I'm sorry Parker, I don't mean to unload it on you. Sometimes I talk too much. Let me just get back to work before I flood you with more problems."

I watched her galumphed back behind the counter while pondering about what she just said. _Life is short_. She had a very good point. I remembered Evee once said that _she preferred a short happy life than a long empty one_. I saw the logic, although my proud Clan mind still would not accept it as the truth. I was confident that I made the right decision by walking away from Evee.

"You're Parker, right?"

I turned my head to the speaker. He was a middle-aged man, dirty from head to toe, nervously sucking the life of his cigarette as if he wanted to swallow the entire length. He gazed left and right, watching people on the other table intently. His hands trembled a bit, and I knew he would not pose me any danger.

"What can I do for you?" I sat up and readied myself to fight, in case he tried to harm me.

"I have something that might be of your interest," he put the hood on and sat in front of me, right where Emi was a minute ago. "I know the people that tried to harm you the other day. The police couldn't find them, but I know where they went. I know some people in the street who can bring you to them."

"Why would I want to go to them?" I cringed.

"You don't understand. These people…" he lowered his voice even more. "These people had declared war on you. And all Davion loyalists. They're gonna harm you in any possible way. If you know their position, you can strike them before they strike you. That way you don't have to tiptoe through the street of Solaris."

"And this is because I killed Thunder Thorley with Davion's aid?" I suggested.

"You're right, you're right! You can end this madness by get them once and for all!"

"And I suppose you want a reward for this?"

The man finished his cigarette. "Nothing is free in Solaris, man. You give me somethin', I give you somethin'. It's just the way it is."

"What do you want from me?"

"I wanna win in the arena. I have to win in the arena. I'm in too deep, man, I have to get money from the arena. I want your cooperation. You help me fight in the arena and I'll give you the guys that tried to harm you. I'm happy, you're happy. Whaddya say?"

I could not just believe him. I did not know him, and for all I know, this could be a trap. But I noticed the anxiety in his eyes. Nobody could coin such an intense expression. I decided to play along with him. "How do I know if you are not messing with me?"

"You will be fighting at Death Dance arena in 3 days," he slipped in another cigarette between his lips. "I'll be there in a _Daedalus_. I won't shoot you until the last mech standing. After that, I want you to surrender to me. I will give you the information once I win the round. You won't be disappointed!" he quickly zipped, passing Emi who just arrived to take his order.

"Hey! Watch out punk!" she yipped as he almost knocked her over.

"Do you know that guy?" I asked. "Is he a regular customer?"

"Never seen him before," she replied. "Did he give you any trouble?"

"No, no, we just chatted."

"Good, because I don't want my best customer to be disturbed when I am working," Emi said proudly. "Call me if you need anything."

As Emi left, I thought over the past encounter with the mysterious man. I knew what I was capable of inside and outside of a mech, and I could take care of myself. I did not need this information, but someone might. I remembered Kyle's explanation about his quest to beat the Grey Wolves. He should like this development.

So I got up from the chair and walked toward the payphone. I punched some numbers, spoke to the operator, asking him to connect me to Gemini Stable, and waited for long minutes. When I heard a voice on the other side of the connection, I made sure that no one was watching me, then spoke with low voice, "Kyle? Parker. I have something that may be useful for you…"

* * *

_**  
Death Dance Arena, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
July 6, 3063**_

The _Black Jack_ was an omnimech, so I felt a bit home. It was in a fair condition, and I did not have difficulties in steering it through the rough terrain of Death Dance arena. The arena was a mundane plain where 6 contestants were placed in facing each other, and there were only little covers for us. The designers must have had quick and brutal fights in mind when they built this arena.

When I brought my mech to the designated place, Kyle contacted me from private channel, "The guy's name is 'Kid' Gordo, a street rat. He's not a real mechwarrior, and I have no idea how he got himself a _Daedalus_. His name is not even in the list. I think he's playing you, but give him the benefit of the doubt. Just play along with him, get him out of trouble, but never yield to him. Captain Morton is checking on him, but we want him alive and see what he's got up in his sleeves. Can you do that?"

"Sure can."

"Stay sharp and good luck," Kyle cut off the comlink.

Just then, another channel blinked. I pushed the button, and Kid's voice flooded my ears, "Are you up to it, Parker? Remember, I will not shoot you, but if you shoot me even once, the deal is off, and you are my enemy!"

"Deal," I concurred, and watched closely as the _Daedalus_ stepped into the designated spot on my far right. A _Nightsky_ separated me from him, and a _Hatchetman_ perched right in front of me. A _Huron Warrior_ and a _Cobra_ stood side by side on my left. The _Huron_ sported the most lethal threat with its Gauss Rifle, but I did not want to underestimate others. I never knew what would happen.

The fight started, and the _Huron_ quickly traded fire with the _Cobra_. The _Nightsky_ and _Hatchetman_ turned to attack Kid, while Kid struggled to make his mech work. The lanky mech moved like an old man having a seizure: one step at a time while swaying left and right, flailing its arms as if it was losing balance all the time. As it comically teetered about, the _Nightsky_ and _Hatchetman_ started peppering its torso with well-placed laser salvos. The center torso started to glow, and from my armor tracker I noticed his armor level quickly turned to orange.

Kyle told me that Kid Gordo was not a real mechwarrior, but this was downright abysmal. All the kid had to do was to push the throttle forward to make the mech walk, or run. The neurohelmet would take care of the mech's stability. What was he doing? Was he wearing his neurohelmet right? It occurred to me that he was not even wearing a neurohelmet. I pushed my throttle to help him out when something dawned on me: he was fine a minute ago, when he walked his _Daedalus_ out of the hangar to his designated spot. He knew quite well how to drive a mech. I smelled foul play, and I pushed my throttle to maximum to help him out.

As I pounded the uneven ground of the arena, the _Nightsky_ and _Hatchetman_ had come close enough to use their hatchets. They started hammering the _Daedalus_ away, ripping its limbs, tearing its torso, bludgeoning its head, and shredding armor and chassis like paper. Twisted screech reverberated with every blow, and sparks burst as metal ground against metal. Kid did not even fight back. He just let the blows sunk into his mech, writhing and trembling as the two mediums chopped him to pieces.

"Kid, what are you doing?" I yelled. "Do not leave everything to me! Fight for your life!"

"Sonofab… ugh, this mech is not… Jesus! I can't get this thing to work! Urkh! Help! Help me!"

"I cannot help you enough if you do not help yourself!"

"Goddamn… it's not working! The goddamn mech is not work… working!"

Just as I thought: his mech was sabotaged. I linked my LBX-10 together and when I came into range, I blew my loads at the back of the _Nightsky_. The 50-ton mech arched forward; pieces of armor went airborne as my fragmented shells flogged its rear. It lurched forward, leaning on Kid's _Daedalus_, then quickly regained its footing. But instead of turning to face me, it continued to pillage the _Daedalus_.

In normal circumstances, no pilot would deliberately expose his back at another mech, let alone a well-equipped workhorse like my BJ2-OC. I became convinced that somebody impaired Kid's mech, then the _Nighthawk_ and _Hatchetman_ were to take the most advantage of the situation as if Kid's doom was the result of mechanical failure, or his inaptness in fighting. I reckoned somebody saw us talking, and they would not let Kid pass something to me. If that were true, then Kid had more value that I suspected.

Suddenly a raucous impact jarred my cockpit. I bit my own tongue and swallowed my own blood as my mech tipped to the right. The command couch creaked as I yanked my joystick in reversed direction. My mech regained its footing, but a hot blast cut through the armor plating on the left torso. I smelled the burning ferro-fibrous, and when I checked the tracker, it was all red. The _Huron_ had delivered substantial damages to the _Cobra_, and now was latching on to me.

I had no choice but to switch target and leave Kid on his own. I had to neutralize it quickly before the _Nighthawk_ and the _Hatchetman_ finished Kid. I hated to do this to Kid, but my survival was more important than his information. While waiting for its big-caliber guns to recycle, the _Huron_ moved to my left, trying to outflank me. But I hit the jump jets to help me maneuver around, then let it rip. Two splintered shells battered the _Huron_ with such a force it twisted and fell down on one knee.

With twin LBX-10 cannons and twin medium lasers, the _Black Jack_ handled like a miniature _Red Baron_, my old mech that was beaten to scrap at Wotan when I dueled Jerome Helmer. While the _Huron_ struggled to get up, I pumped my jets to quickly get out of its line of fire. Landing behind the _Huron's_ back, I scored a hit with my laser, then sprinted to its left as it swiveled its torso to bring its Gauss Rifle to bear. It fired, missed, and followed up with its large laser. A mild vibration enveloped my mech as the laser blast evaporated a ton of armor on the chest. I put the _Huron_ on my crosshair when out of nowhere the _Cobra_ appeared on my right flank, showering me with missiles and lasers.

I was too late to take evasive maneuver. Almost two-dozen missiles slammed into my right torso, pelting armor like it was made of wood. I had to close my eyes when the quake took over the cockpit. The armor level dropped down to orange. The impacts – and subsequent explosions – almost topple the _Black Jack_, but I managed to keep it on its feet.

I was at the center of a potential crossfire between the _Huron_ and the _Cobra_, a very disadvantageous position. But when I checked the _Cobra's_ status, I realized that it was fighting at the brink of its existence. Its armor was stripped down to the internal structure, and tongues of fire licked from the majority of its body part. I simply raised my right arm and barked my LBX-10. A brilliant flash blitzed through the field as the _Cobra_ went off.

Unfortunately, I gave the _Huron_ enough time to recuperate. A blue trail zipped from its large-bored rifle, and I felt my mech reeling to the back. My left torso burst, taking away the medium laser and dangerously threatening the ammunition for my left LBX-10. Before I could realign my crosshair, the _Huron_ fired its laser. Lucky for me, it went wide, and my left LBX-10 was still functional. Nevertheless, the power output of my _Black Jack_ was reduced to 73 percent.

Now it was my turn.

I quickly fired my left LBX-10. The force was not strong enough to drop it, but it washed away half of the armor on its right arm. Its medium pulse flashed, sending flickering needles at my direction, but I ignored it and stabbed its right arm with my remaining laser. Its large laser recycled, and it aimed its gun at me, but I ducked and blasted my other LBX-10, aiming it at the shredded armor of its right arm. The Gauss Rifle blossomed into a reddish fireball, and the explosion took away the remaining armor of the right torso, weakened by the _Cobra_. A series of explosions consumed the _Huron_ until it lurched to the side, leaning on its left arm. By this time, my left LBX-10 was at the ready. I mashed the trigger, and the _Huron_ disintegrated behind a huge bonfire.

Packing two kills under my belt, I turned to see if there was anything left of Kid Gordo. Sadly, there was none. The _Daedalus_ lied on the ground with its head split open, and I suspected there were not many things to recover. The _Nighthawk_ and _Hatchetman_ now marched toward me, the former a little closer to me.

The _Hatchetman_ was practically unscathed, but the rear armor of the _Nighthawk_ was weakened. I had to keep them in a line, so I only had to fight one of them at a time. I boosted my jets to bring me to the side, crisscrossing under laser barrage, and regained my footing right in front of the _Nighthawk_. The _Hatchetman_ was right behind it, so it could not fire its weapons. The _Nighthawk_ sprayed its pulse lasers, half of which baked my armor on the midst, but I linked my cannons together and fired it in unison. Brute force jerked the mech behind, knocking it down, ceasing its laser bursts momentarily.

The _Hatchetman_ grew anxious and swung to its right, but I rotated to my right flank, keeping the _Nighthawk_ perfectly between the _Hatchetman_ and my mech. The _Nighthawk_ arose, showering me with blistering array of pulse lasers, but the excessive heat hindered the targeting computer. With the _Nighthawk_ practically half blind, I swerved past it and put the stunned _Hatchetman_ in my crosshair. One click at the trigger and the 45-ton mech jolted, whipped by hundreds of munitions that grated its armor like drones.

Meanwhile, the _Nighthawk_ had its heat controlled, then continued peppering me with pulse lasers. I fired up my jump jets and slid behind the _Hatchetman_. The _Nighthawk_ continued firing, and inadvertently grilled the _Hatchetman_ with half a dozen laser bursts. Utterly provoked, the _Hatchetman_ blasted its LBX cannon that caught the _Nighthawk_ in the left torso. Blue sparks spewed from the arm joint, and the _Nighthawk_ left arm flew in the air before crashing to the ground.

Suddenly I got to watch two hatchet-wielding metal trolls bashing each other with raw power. The _Nighthawk_ buried its hatchet on the _Hatchetman's_ left torso, while the _Hatchetman_ sunk its ax into the _Nighthawk's_ abdomen. The sound of grinding metal filled the air, and the two mechs continued chopping each other to pieces, to the point that they were reduced to walking, swinging titanium beams. But in the end, the _Hatchetman_ proved to be the better butcher. One swing to the head and the _Nighthawk's_ skull caved in, crushing the pilot underneath millions of pound force.

And it was me who reaped the result. The _Hatchetman_ did not have any weapons left except its melee weapon. It tried to close the gap with me, but I quickly decked it with a double shot to the midst. The mech roared into a fireball.

When everything went calm, I walked past the remnants of the _Daedalus_, wondering what was in Kid's mind. I would never know. Everything was lost under tons of steel that buried Kid Gordo. I could only hope that Kyle and Morton would find something out of this kid, regardless his untimely doom.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

**Note: **This chapter contains graphic violence. Reader's discretion is advised.

* * *

_**Thor's Shieldhall, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**_**_July 29, 3063 _**

"He's always late, that sonofabitch."

Kyle reclined in his chair, playing with his semi-empty beer bottle. It was his second bottle, and I could tell he drank that much just to soothe his anxiety. I was on my second bottle myself, but it was because I grew fond of Solaris beer. The deadline for Captain Morton to meet us had passed half an hour ago, but he had not showed up, and I was afraid if he did not come soon, we would be too drunk to talk about what he found about Kid Gordo. Inner Sphere's bad habits colonized me one at a time, and I was afraid I would turn into an addict like some mechwarriors on the neighboring tables. Damn Spheroids!

"He'll come. He always does." Natalie tapped Kyle's shoulder. She was the only one who kept her alcohol consumption under control.

"Sorry I'm late," Captain Morton finally appeared with two of his lieutenants. "Got stuck at the office."

"I've never met anybody who disregards punctuality as bad as you, Morton," Kyle grumbled. "You are just the worst of your kind."

"Hey, cool off!" Morton snapped. "I'm here, so let's get down to business." He ordered beers and drew some pieces of paper. "That Gordo kid wasn't supposed to be in the game with Parker. The real mechwarrior was 'Bolo' Bob, a new recruit. Bob went AWOL an hour before the fight, and the only available _seatfiller_ at such a short time was Gordo."

"Wait a minute," I tuned in. "He came to me 3 days before the fight, saying he would be in a _Daedalus_. Bolo Bob had not been missing by then, had he?"

"No, and that's exactly my point," Morton continued. "Somebody really wanted Gordo to be in the match. I checked Gordo's bank account. He was broke. Not a single c-bill left in his bank account. But here's where it gets interesting… he got thousands of online debts betting on Thunder Thorley."

"So he's in it deep, really deep," Kyle surmised. "Then what? Was somebody on his tail?"

"Exactly. Guess whom he'd been calling 10 times a day lately… Fist Difalco!"

I never thought I would hear the name again. He disappeared after I beat him in lightweight circuit last year, and I wondered what he was doing lately. It turned out he was taking care of other business. I felt sorry for Kid Gordo for having to deal with Fist Difalco.

"You want to know what I think? I think Kid was in a dire need of money. The bank was gnawing on him, days and nights, and he just had to escape. Difalco knew about this and used it to settle a score with Parker. He offered Kid an easy escape if Kid set up an ambush for Parker. Kid was supposed to feed Parket to the _Nighthawk_, _Hatchetman_, and _Huron Warrior_. But something went wrong. Maybe Kid got greedy. Maybe Kid talked too much. Or maybe Kid listened to his conscience, so he took matters into his own hand. Then Difalco turned his diabolical scheme to Kid; he sabotaged Kid's mech and assigned his cohorts to maul Kid on the arena before he blew the whistle. Then he went back to his dungeon, lurking for another chance to strike Parker."

I listened to Morton's justification with much interest. It was a logical theory. I knew that some Solaris players regarded the games as life and death. But never I would think somebody would take it as far as Fist Difalco. It reminded me of Jerome Helmer, and it seemed that I continuously crossed path with maniacs. Perhaps I had a knack of irritating people to the point of insanity.

"Interesting theory," Kyle stated. "So what will be our next step?"

"You'll love me for this, Garret!" Morton sniggered. "I traced Kid's phone calls using the satellite overhead link. Six times out of ten, Difalco was in Cathay, sector D17. I confirmed it with Cathay District. The entire area was a mid-class residential complex, but this particular sector was leased to Norbert Liao. I don't know who this Norbert guy is, but I bet my own head, he's got a tight relationship with Chancellor Sun Tzu."

"That means you found the Grey Wolves' den," Natalie concluded.

"Something that I've been working on for years," Morton knocked on the paper repeatedly. "If we whip D17 hard and fast, we'll wipe out the Grey Wolves out of commission. Then Davion loyalists can return to the arenas without fear of getting slammed by Liao partisans. Then I can sit back and watch commendations crawling to my desk, hopefully handed to me by Prince Victor himself."

"You wish!" Kyle smiled. "But good job nonetheless. So when will you hit the Grey Wolves?"

"Tonight," Morton grinned. "Cathay District had given me authority to send two APCs to D17. They will support us with another squad of cops. There will be enough personnel to choke the Grey Wolves from every direction. By the way, what are you up to tonight? I heard that your wife is an excellent tac-op officer."

"Best in AFFC," Kyle winked at Natalie.

"Natalie Gibson-Garret, reporting to duty!" Natalie responded with a coy salute.

"Good! We need a dependable tactical operation officer to monitor the attack."

"Is there anything I can do?" I felt a little left out.

"Ah, you get the best part in this mission, Parker!" Morton chuckled. "You'll get to watch it on TV, from your room, beer in your left hand, chick in your right! How nice is that?"

"Wait, wait, Morton," Kyle shifted on his chair. "We got this far because of him. We can't just leave him out. Are you going to take the credit of unveiling the Grey Wolves' nest for yourself?"

Morton shot a disgruntled stare at me, then at Kyle, and finally back at me. "I guess we have a room for another. Can you handle a needler?" Morton drew his needler gun and put it in front of me.

"A needler? Why do we want to hit the Grey Wolves with needler guns?" I protested.

"We don't want to kill them, Parker," Natalie explained. "We want to get them alive for questioning. Information puts us one step ahead of them, and in urban warfare like this, information is winning half of the battle. I hope you haven't forgotten about your basic training."

"No, I have not," I receded in a small fib. "I can handle a needler."

"Stay close to Natalie all the time," Morton snorted. "If you can't handle such a simple command, then maybe you don't need to be in this mission at all."

"I will do that," I nodded and emptied my bottle.

* * *

_**Sector D17, Cathay,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**July 29, 3063**_

The night was still young, but numerous shadows dove into the dark alleys, cowering under the silhouettes of buildings and vehicles that were carelessly parked on the streets. Three black-painted APCs crawled on the street with low hum as more and more SCPD agents jumped out of the vehicles, covering as many grounds as possible.

Natalie sat beside me inside one of the APCs, facing two monitors that showed the overhead of the district. The satellite link gave her unprecedented real-time view of the entire district, which helped her synchronized the assault. Kyle sat in the front row with Morton, just behind the driver. Another cop sat behind me, manning the twin .50 caliber machine guns of the APC, but his instruction was to hold fire unless the situation became out of control.

The APC stopped, and Morton exited, followed by Kyle. I took the liberty to follow them meeting a woman from another APC. She wore black flak vest with SCPD crest on one side and Liao green badge on the other. It was weird to see Kyle and Morton wearing flak vest with FedCom emblems on their chest. Davion and Liao had been both uneasy allies and bitter rivals, and seeing these individuals working together was eerie.

"Captain Wang, this is Captain Garret from 160th Davion Guards," Morton opened the briefing. "Captain Wang provides us with a squad of personnel from Cathay District."

"My gratitude for assisting us in this excursion, Captain Wang," Kyle shook her hands.

"Let's not get carried away, Captain," Wang replied coldly. "Cathay District is not helping the Davions. We are doing this because the Grey Wolves give us a bad name. In the spirit of fair play, let's get this done. My unit will sweep the north sector, building by building. Spread your unit to cover all areas, and get everybody out on the street for identification. Expect heavy resistance, but minimize damage. If we move fast, we should be able to hit them before they know it." Then Wang spotted me. "Who's he? Civilian?"

"His information brought us here," Kyle explained. "He's staying with me unless needed."

"Good!" Morton concluded. "Red Team, to the west! Blue, to the east. I'll cover the south!"

As the cops assumed their positions, Kyle handed me a flak vest, an earpiece, and a needler gun. I donned the flak vest and slipped in the earpiece behind my ear. I could clearly hear Morton giving orders to his troops. Wang was also busy spreading words, although not as enthusiastic as Morton. Natalie adjusted the tone of the screens so everybody could see clearly the overhead image of sector D17, with the cops running around the street, ready to attack the houses.

I remembered Kid Gordo said about the position of people that attempted to hurt me, and wondered if he was trying to lead me to this sector. His intention was marred by his greed, and if only he came to Morton instead of blackmailing me, he would have been alive and aptly rewarded. What a waste of talent.

"All units, this is central, report status," Natalie sent her final code.

"We're in position," Wang replied.  
"Red Team, in position."  
"Blue Team, position."  
"This is Morton, we're in position. Strike deep and fast."

"On my mark," Natalie said. "Three… two… one… Go!"

The cops jumped out in unison and quickly stormed the houses, knocking out doors and windows. Yells and screams flooded the comlink, and for a moment it looked like the operation went smoothly. But it was just a rushed expectation. Multiple gunshots echoed through the comlink, and through Natalie's screens I could see muzzle flashes blitzed from various positions. Unidentified figures, tall and small, poured out onto the streets, firing wildly toward the cop's positions.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!" somebody yelled on the comlink.

"Officer down! Repeat, officer down!" added another.

"Blue Team, you have bogeys on your six pouring out from 355 Dixie Court!" Natalie's voice was calm and firm. "Tag them before they reach the second house! Red Team, two unidentified males making a zip on Groningen Street. Cut them off on the next intersection!"

"Roger that!"

From the screen I saw four large men firing their machine guns at Red Team's position, but two cops sneaked behind their backs and mowed them down using their needler guns. At another corner, the two men Natalie mentioned tried to make their ways outside the complex, but three cops cut their path and immobilized them with well-placed shots to their limbs. In the north, Wang's force were tangled with several Grey Wolves thugs with big guns, possibly _Sternsnachts_. Two cops had already been taken down, lying on their pooling blood.

"Captain Wang, reinforce your men on 5600 Delasz! They won't hold long against the thugs. Morton, you have a leak on your seven. Five men are escaping."

"I'm spreading thin down here!" Morton's reply came in hot and curt. "Blue Team, split up and reinforce my rear flank!"

"No can do Cap'n! We're pinned down here!"

"We'll cover it," suddenly Kyle jumped out of the APC. "APC One, reinforce Wang and Blue Team! Two, cover the center! You…" he tapped the driver, "Stay right here! Parker, let's close the door for these runners!"

"On your six," I did not think when I jumped out of the APC and dashed as fast as I could. It was rather hard to run in flak vest, but I had to wear it. The Grey Wolves were using real bullets, and I did not want to take a chance getting hit by stray shots. We sprinted for about 200 meters down the road until we came into an intersection. Kyle made a tight turn to the left, and the 5 escaping thugs were only 50 meters in front of him.

The thugs saw us, and they raised their guns, but Kyle was close enough to ram himself at them, taking down two of the thugs. As he tumbled and struggled with the two Grey Wolves, their friends aimed their guns at Kyle. I quickly crouched and fired my needler. A burst of hypersonic flechettes leapt from my gun, castigating the torso of the thug closest to me. A giant man, he was a mountain of muscles, but the plastic flechettes shredded his chest muscles like paper. An agonizing scream escaped his mouth as his fingers curled into half fists, coping with the pain. He slumped to the hard pave of the street, moaning while rubbing his bloodied chest.

I switched target to the other two, but they already put me in their crosshairs. Their muzzle flash blinded me, then I felt two terrible twinges punching my chest. I felt my breath was taken away from me. Their bullet pushed me with such a force I had to keel over and took several steps behind. Then they fired again. One hit my shoulder, the other slammed into my stomach. I lost my vision, and next time I opened my eyes, I was lying down, staring at the dark sky, fighting for my breaths.

"Parker! Parker, you OK?" I heard Kyle's voice far away. Slowly I got up, and through my blurry eyes I saw Kyle brawled the two thugs single-handedly. One was lying on the ground, rubbing his face, the other was still swinging fists but I could tell he would soon meet the same fate as his friends. Kyle was too fast for him.

"I am fine," I slowly rose to my feet, fighting the pain in my shoulder. The flak vest stopped the bullet from doing harm, but the last blast to my shoulder felt like a _Sternsnacht_ shell. My ears rang just because of that shot. "Possible ruptures on my shoulder, but otherwise fine. Natalie, where did they go?"

"North, half block away from your position. Wait for back up, Parker! You can't fight them alone!"

"There is no time," I jogged, wincing in pain as terrible pain gnawed my shoulder. My breaths still came in short gasp, but I pushed myself to run faster. I just could not let these two punks get away. The dark of night obscured my eyes further, but I knew I could rely on Natalie's sharp report on the field.

"Parker, Morton's force clipped them from the north. They're turning back."

That was the advantage I had been waiting for. They thought they must have killed me, so they turned back to the place they thought safe. I quickly hid behind a bush, waiting for them to arrive. Natalie saw what I was doing, and she guided me with the position of the thugs. They were not running fast, probably confident enough in their powerful guns that took me out a moment ago.

Soon, I heard their breaths and their steps. Just as they passed my position, I slid my foot out of the bush and tapped one of their feet. My ankle hooked the foot, and one thug lurched and thudded to the ground, rolling in the pavement. The other halted his dash and turned around to shot me, but I was ready with my needler. The situation was a complete reversal from our earlier encounter. The flechette bursts peeled his skin and castigated his flesh, first on his arm, then on his abs. I could see his mouth gaped, followed by a rasp scream that echoed through the night. He rose his bloody arm as a last attempt to shoot me, but I let loose a burst to his side. He twisted and slumped, writhing in pain.

The thug that fell earlier came back with his gun. I rolled under the bush as he blindly hurled his ammunitions. High-charged ballistics ricocheted on the ground, and he kept on his pressure until he ran out of ammunition. I got up and fired my needler, but I too ran out of flechettes. He bolted, but I was not about to let him escape. It was easier if I could just kill him, but I remembered what Natalie said about getting information.

I sprinted as fast as I could, ignoring the pain on my shoulder. When I was close, I leapt and rammed myself on his back. We tumbled down together, and the pain almost took my consciousness away for the second time that evening. Slowly I rose, but the thug's boot sunk into my ribs, adding another surge of twinge. I went back to the ground, heaving labored breaths, when another strike slammed into my stomach. My eyes felt hot, and I could hear my heart beating on my ears. Once again the foot hit my stomach, and I lied there crushed and broken.

The thug moved to my head, ready to smash my face with his boot. This time, I mustered everything I had left and blocked his foot. Then I clenched his toes with my left hand, his heel with my right, then twisted his foot as hard as I could. It swiveled 90 degree with a loud crack, and two splintered bones busted up from his ankle, jutting out of his skin. He wailed and lost his balance, then fell flat on his back, crying.

"Natalie…" I wheezed into the comlink. "I got the last thug. Get Morton here to collect him."

"I'll send in the paramedics also," Natalie responded. "Looks like they need it more than you do."

After a while, half a dozen ambulances flooded the sector. Two paramedics assisted me getting back to the APC, where Kyle, Natalie, Captain Morton and Captain Wang waited. More than a hundred Grey Wolves member had been apprehended, but from the look of Morton and Wang, I knew that they were not happy with the result.

"We got their nest alright," Wang debriefed me. "This bust will severely weaken their operation. However, most of their mechwarriors are not present. I was hoping to see Fist Difalco, but my expectation precedes the fact."

"They know they can't hurt you out here," Morton added. "So they'll gonna get you again inside the arena. My jurisdiction can only go this far. Once you get into the arena, you're on your own."

"We're it, Parker," Kyle said, bruised but otherwise in a better shape than I was. "It's up to us to beat them inside the arena."

"We are mechwarriors," I replied. "Our specialty is mech fighting. Let them try."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN**

**Note: **I am deeply honored by **Kat's** and **Ogrewolf's** last reviews. Thank you guys, your reviews mean a lot to me. Also for other readers, thank you for reading. I hope you like what you see. So far I can stay true to my original plan: to update once a week. I hope I can keep it up.

* * *

_**Death and Glory Arena, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
November 15, 3063**_

The attack on Grey Wolves' compound changed the way Solaris games were played. Players with Davion affiliations were not targeted by foul plays like they used to. In light circuit, the balance of power shifted from Liao domination toward Davion and Kurita, while in medium circuit, the Davionists almost single-handedly ruled the top board. In heavy and assault circuit, the Grey Wolves quickly fell victim to Steiner loyalists who, after decades of domination, still made the heavier classes their home.

But against my expectation, the rest of the Grey Wolves had not made their moves toward Kyle or me. I had been waiting to take on two or three Grey Wolves charging me with all barrels blazing – the way they cut Kid Gordo to pieces months ago, but it did not happen. I waited for them to lay their dirty hands on me all the way up to the semifinal, but my anticipation ended up in chagrin. I became increasingly jittery about this development. I knew they were on the move, but I did not know what they were planning, so this fact made me nervous.

However, it changed today at medium circuit semifinal.

"Well, well, if it's not the infamous Parker that killed Thunder Thorley," a familiar voice crackled as I guided my _Black Jack_ to my designated spot. "The light circuit is not the same without you, and for a moment I thought you chickened out seeing the true force of Liao people power."

"I felt the same way when you disappeared after our fight at 4-Cross, Difalco," I sneered while putting my mech in idle. "Do you think moving up will give you new confidence?"

"Say what you want, smartass! We're gonna get you, and you'll beg for mercy by then!"

I scanned each mech on the battlefield. A _Grim Reaper_ bore the insignia of Free World, a Clan-made _Stormcrow_ and a _Vindicator_ had Liao's crest on their chests, a _Bushwacker_ with a Steiner's fist was right in front of a FedCom new _Hellspawn_, and two other mechs a _Chimera_ and a _Strider_ bore insignias that I had never seen before. I had to assume that Difalco was in the _Stormcrow_. Clearly the Grey Wolves still had an influence on the game, as Difalco appeared on the semifinal despite being absent on regular games. But it was not an important detail. The _Stormcrow_ was a very dangerous mech, and I knew Difalco could use it well.

The fight started, and as I predicted, the _Stormcrow_ quickly turned toward me and launched a barrage of lasers. I threw myself to my left, but one of Difalco's beams boiled the armor on my right torso. His missile launchers flared, throwing up his missiles at my direction. I sidestepped them, but they looped and strafed my right torso, weakened by Difalco's previous shot. My cockpit trembled, my gauges switched from full-fledged report to static back and forth, and my ringing console shouted information that I did not want to hear. My mech tottered under the onslaught. Nevertheless, the neurohelmet quickly picked up the signal and stabilized the _Black Jack_.

As Difalco receded to reload, his accomplice took the charge and showered me with blue electric charge. Lucky for me he was a lousy shot. His PPC bolt missed my head by a meter or so, and his rushed missiles covered a wide area, raking everything in sight but me. I guided my mech away from them and throttled up to maximum. Before Difalco could use his weapons, I slipped behind a small hill and plunged into a vale that waited behind it.

For a moment I was freed, but I knew it would not be long. Difalco had engaged a full sprint to hunt me down. I knew my 50-ton _Black Jack_ was nowhere near the ferocity of Difalco's _Stormcrow_, and his skill doubled my disadvantage. Added by a _Vindicator_ as his back up weapon, Difalco was well fortified. It was not the time to play honor. I had to break them up and kill them one by one. Divide and Conquer.

So I quickly changed my direction, swiveling around the hill. Difalco broke formation and pushed his mech up the hill, while the _Vindicator_ continued to stalk me around the bulbous ground. I made a hard turn to the right, and when Difalco reached the top, I was already behind another hill. Driven by revenge, Difalco pumped up his mech, thus leaving his backup farther and farther. My plan worked, but now I had to find a battleground that would boost my advantage over him.

Fortunately, the _Hellspawn_ finished the _Strider_ in a quick fashion and turned to fight Difalco. Its razor-sharp precision staggered Difalco for a while, but the Grey Wolves veteran deftly commandeered his mech to launch a deadly counter attack. The antenna of the _Hellspawn_ burst as a wave of missile peppered its head. Before the _Hellspawn_ could react, two bolts of laser smashed into its protruding torso, melting armor into dripping hot gooey.

I turned to attack the _Vindicator_, but a _Chimera_ was waiting for me behind a small hill. Together with the _Hellspawn_, it was a new design, designed to affirm Davion's grip on light-to-medium competition against the Steiner in FedCom Civil War. I did not think it was worth my time fighting the 40-ton mech, so I simply slipped past it to fight the _Vindicator_. Unfortunately, soon I would learn that it was a big mistake.

As I flanked the new mech, it twisted and spat its medium-range missile. I never thought it would catch me, but Davion's new targeting system was more lethal than anything I had seen before. The missiles smashed into my cockpit, throwing plexiglass splinters into the air. I shut my eyes in time before the chunks ravaged my eyes, but I could feel those nasty shards clobbering my face. Some of them lodged into my lids. It hurt me even to blink. But I had to fight on. I opened my eyes, and my crosshair was gone.

I could not believe what the _Chimera_ did to my mech.

So I was lucky that the cockpit stayed intact, but I had to fight without targeting computer for the rest of the game. I had to rely on my eyes, with bleeding eyelids. I wiped the blood in my face, wincing as the shards sunk deeper into my flesh, and twisted right to face the _Chimera_. It fired its lasers and burnt a ton of armor on my center torso. The acrid smell sickened me, but I ignored it and blasted my right LBX-10. At 400 meters, the shells carved numerous holes on the _Chimera's_ armor. It pivoted to realign its target, but I followed up with my left cannon. The _Chimera_ twisted, teetering on its left leg as the scattershot pushed it to the side.

I kept the pressure, alternating between left and right cannons with occasional laser shots. My twin LBX-10 worked like drums, delivering one-two punches that kept the _Chimera_ fighting on its heel all the time. Soon its torso engulfed in an inferno, and molten armor dripped like blood. I held my joystick for a moment, waiting for the cannons to fully reload, then fired my power punch to its gut. The _Chimera_ keeled over and pushed aback, then fell flat on its butt, sparking and burning. I knew it would not get up anytime soon.

By this time Difalco had shredded the _Hellspawn_ to pieces, but the little bugger gave him a hard, respectable fight. The _Vindicator_ seemed afraid to duel me, so it turned back and tried to regroup with Difalco. I did not want to let this chance to slip away, so I maxed-out the throttle and hit my jump jets. Airborne midway, I fired my LBX's, hitting the _Vindicator's_ back. The distance was too far for the shells to do serious damage, but nevertheless they made the _Vindicator's_ turn to face me.

I grazed the ground and proceeded with a hard bank, just as it fired off its PPC. The blue bolt flailed wildly above my head. The _Vindicator_ followed up with its missiles, and two of them hit my left torso. The pilot was not a bright warrior, and this fact reflected clearly on his repeated misses. Now he made himself vulnerable by exhausting his weapons all at once. I counted the seconds, waiting for the PPC to recharge, then launched my counterattack milliseconds before the _Vindicator_ fired its particle cannon.

My right LBX belched, sending scattered munitions toward the _Vindicator's_ right side. The 45-ton twisted just as it fired its PPC. The blue charged particle bolt leapt across the distance and hit a small dump of soil, 670 meters away. It swiveled back to the left but I scored another hit with my left LBX. Fragmented armor geysered into the air as the shells whittled the right arm. I added two medium lasers into the arm joint, and smoke twirled from the wound.

The _Vindicator_ backpedaled and showered me with its missiles. The rushed attack managed to carve holes on my right shoulder. The armor tracker turned red, and my right laser threatened to go defunct. My mech leaned to the right, coping with the loss of mass, but I quickly pushed it upright. Two laser shots from the _Vindicator_ hit me on the center, turning the armor tracker into yellow hue. But I shrugged them off, and prepared for my final assault.

I aligned my mech toward the _Vindicator's_ right side, then linked all weapons together. As soon as it aimed its large-bored PPC at me, I squeezed the trigger. I could have made a better shot with a targeting computer, but this sufficed. The integrated bangs deafened me for a second. The _Vindicator_ flailed wildly and internal structure caved in, destroying the power cord connecting the gun with the main generator. Excess particle charges burst from the back of the cannon as the right arm exploded. The wrecked cannon split into three parts, and what remained dangled with several strands of cables and myomer.

Then the _Vindicator_ overheated.

I backed up my mech, putting myself right in front of the _Vindicator_ as it slouched forward in shut down sequence. A glint of dishonor admonished my conscience as I trained my entire arsenal at the _Vindicator's_ midst. But this was Solaris, and I was Wolf no more. I mashed my alpha-strike button, and my _Black Jack_ shook to sustain the resonance of my guns firing at the same time. The _Vindicator_ jerked and fell down, then burst into a gigantic bonfire that illuminated the field for a good while.

I rested for a good scan of the battlefield. The _Bushwacker_ had barely made it out of a close fight against the _Grim Reapers_, and now was limping toward me. On the other corner of the arena, Difalco finished the _Hellspawn_ with no serious damage, but the little Davion drained a good portion of Difalco's missiles, or so I thought. He realized his cohort had been neutralized, and he put up a good sprint toward me.

I could destroy the _Bushwacker_ for an additional prize, but I opted to use the half-dead mech to weaken Difalco, although I did not think it was much of a use against the _Stormcrow_. I paced my mech in a half jog then swung to the left, putting the limping _Bushwacker_ between Difalco and me. The _Bushwacker_ turned around, facing Difalco, then let loose a salvo of missiles and lasers that disrupted Difalco's run. The _Stormcrow_ lurched to the side, but quickly sprung back up and punished the _Bushwacker_ for what it did. Lasers stabbed the _Bushwacker_ in the midst, and the 55-ton mech exploded, filling the air with smoke and titanium gristles.

Nevertheless, Difalco's left torso turned orange.

"Good play, Parker, I must give it to you," Difalco croaked. "I would've said respectable, but we both know it's not the fact, don't we?"

"No, it is not, but who are we to judge such things?" I refused to be provoked. "We are players, not juries."

"Once a smartass always a smartass," he puffed. "Only the two of us remained. What are you waiting for? Christmas? Come on, creep! Are you too afraid to fight me head on?"

Difalco chose his weapons wisely this time. His _Stormcrow_ mounted 2 large lasers, 2 medium lasers, and 2 long-range missile launchers. He could fight me all night long if he wanted. But still, he trash-talked the way he did it on our first meeting. Why? Fear? I would think he was not. Perhaps he was overwhelmed with overconfidence. Or perhaps he was goading me. I did not know his intention this time, so I had to be really careful.

"Afraid?" I stepped forward slowly. "I beat your _Cougar_ with a _Wasp_. Why should I be afraid of you? You cower inside Clan-made mechs, but we both know what you really are. You are nothing but a _timey_, Difalco. If it is not because of your mech, you are long gone. I think you need to reconsider your definition of 'afraid', because I seriously doubt that you even understand what it means."

"You've never beaten me, asshole!" Difalco dashed forward, clearly provoked by my insult. "You just got lucky that one time, but now I will eat your heart! Prepare to die!"

Anger negated common sense. That was what happened. Consumed by anger, Difalco lunged at me, abandoning his fighting scheme that he practiced so well up to this point. On the other hand, it worked best to my advantage. My LBX-10's would be perfect at 300 meters, while he would struggle to make his long-range missiles to work. I throttled up and pointed my weapons at Difalco, still separated by a small hill.

As he emerged from behind the hill, I burst my jump jets and slid forward, quickly getting into 300-m range. Difalco fired his lasers, one of which drilled my center torso. But I held my joystick tight, and at 300 meters, hit my alpha strike. Difalco's left torso turned blinking red, spurting sparks and smoke along with engine parts. I steered my mech to curve behind his blind spot, waiting for my guns to reload. Difalco vainly twisted right, but he could not get me on his crosshair. He swung to the other direction and fired his missiles in quick succession, but the rushed attack went wide, carving holes on the ground.

As soon as I heard the clangs, I fired again. I concentrated on his left torso, and although my shots were severely hindered by the lack of targeting computer, they fell in the right direction. Fire spewed from the boxy torso, followed by multiple explosions that flung metal bits into a wide area. The left missile launcher was replaced by void.

The _Stormcrow_ jerked and staggered, but never once lost its balance. It pivoted and twisted, then fired everything at me. I flinched, but Difalco spread his shot so wide two laser strands cooked my weakened right torso. Smoke billowed from the wound, and with my canopy literally blasted to pieces, the black smoke stormed into the cockpit. My eyes welled up with tears, and every time I blinked to clear my vision, my eyelids pumped out blood that obscured my eyes further.

Difalco knew I was in pain. He turned and sank another round of laser into my midst. I could hear the sizzling sound of armor as it streaked and dripped to the ground. I pushed the throttle to maximum, trying to get out of his line of fire, but I could not see his position. There was so much smoke in the cockpit that I could not even see my own hands. Another set of lasers and my mech was on fire, putting even more smoke into my eyes.

I did not care about how much smoke I put into my lung. I just wanted to see. The combination of tears, blood, and smoke blinded me, and I could not rub my eyes because of the glass splinters in my face. As a desperate move, I triggered my jets and soared backward. I knew I would give Difalco enough time to use his missiles, but I could care less about what he could and could not do. I had to clear my eyes!

I landed on the ground, just as my proximity alarm rang. Seconds later the cockpit rocked in a huge blast. All kinds of warning message squealed on top of each other. I shook my head, trying to get a clear vision. Indistinctly I saw a flicker of light in front of me, just before my console announced that I had lost my right LBX-10. So that was Difalco's lasers. I could shoot at that vicinity, but I did not know how far he was. My only chance was to charge that source of light until my eyes were right in front of his. It was a crazy, stupid maneuver, but I had to take it. I did not have any other choice.

So I reversed direction and sprinted forward, using my jets to add more speed. I saw the flicker again, a little bit to the left, and I adjusted my direction. I did not know how close or how far he was. All I know was I had tremendous impact that almost threw me out of my mech. The straps reined me in, but the impact jarred my entire cockpit so hard I thought I would throw up. But I knew I was in contact with Difalco.

Without thinking, I shoved my left arm forward until it nudged a hard wall. I triggered my remaining LBX cannon, and the explosion jerked me behind. I felt a sharp wind snapping on my face as a bright light bloomed. The shockwave pushed me behind, and I could feel my mech trotting backward. The _Black Jack_ should be in combat loss grouping now, but I saw light danced in front of me.

Difalco was on fire.

I did not know what it was. I trained all my guns at the flicker and mashed my triggers repeatedly. Multiple light strands blitzed, followed by ear-splitting booms from my LBX, making the light dot bigger and bigger. And one particular shot turned the flicker into a bright blotch, followed by loud boom that was unmistakably an explosion. The heat almost took me over, and for a moment I thought that I was the center of the explosion. But it eventually subsided, leaving me with a dark, acrid environment.

I waited for some time until the techs helped me get out of my mech. I was put in a stretcher, and the ambulance car rushed me to nearby hospital. When I asked one of the paramedics, he explained that Difalco did not make it. He was knocked out unconscious when I rammed my mech on his _Stormcrow_. That was the last everybody saw him alive.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**ELEVEN**

_**Indrahar Memorial Hospital, Kobe,  
Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
November 21, 3063**_

Earlier this morning, when I tried to enter the hospital to check in my wounds, fans attacked me like hungry wolves. Most of them craved my signature, but few reporters peppered me with questions regarding my feud with Fist Difalco. Questions like 'Has the Grey Wolves made a threat yet?', 'Do you think your life might be in danger?', and 'What does Captain Morton say about the rest of the Grey Wolves?' struck me over and over. Fortunately, the hospital's security guards knew how to deal with them. The pushed them back as paramedics escorted me inside.

Yes, the semifinal brought unrest to me. Everybody knew the remaining Grey Wolves would not let Difalco die unavenged. The words of Fercyn rang into my ears, '_Can't do anything quietly, can you?_' Another one from the chief of local police, '_You left a trail of destruction anywhere you set your feet on_.' I realized what I was, but here at Solaris I had made a paradox of myself. Solaris fans lived on destruction. They revered indomitable players, and they found it in me. On the other hand, I kept crossing path with wrong individuals. That was the reason Jerome Helmer begrudged at me. And now I had piled up dozens, if not hundreds, begrudged maniacs who wanted me dead the way Jerome Helmer wanted me dead.

This life was not the way I wanted when I chose Solaris to be my home. I never wanted to be a celebrity. I only wanted to find a way to make things right. I wanted to remember my past. Solaris seemed to be the forefront of technological marvel, aside from states' capitals. I just hoped I could find a way to fix my brain.

At the exam room, the paramedics checked my battle scars. They had removed the glass splinters off my skin and boosted my lungs with oxygen treatment, but they had to make sure that I did not have complications from smoke inhalation. I went through several procedures, then they asked me to wait while the doctors readied their final judgment.

They did not let me wait long. A doctor entered my room with a pile of papers in his hand. He took the chair in front of me and, skimming his chart, said the words I longed to hear, "Everything is good, Mr. Parker. Your lungs are functioning just fine. Looks like you are ready for the championship."

"Thank you," I nodded in relieve. "There is something I need to ask you."

He put his charts on the table and shot a stern look at me. "Is it about your brain?"

"How do you know?" I squinted, amazed on how the doctor could read my mind.

"Mr. Parker," he slipped off his glasses and rose from his chair, "When a human body experiencing pain, the brain tends to shut down other body function to cope with it. If you feel extreme pain on your left hand, you loose control of your right, and sometimes you can't even feel anything else. That's how normal human body works. In my 20 years of practice I had never seen somebody visually impaired, riddled with plexiglass, choked by burning myomer, and still managed to kill another mech. You defied all scientific functionalities of human body, so I took the liberty to take a scan of you while we treated you."

I knew where this would go.

"You have fully-developed _cerebrum_, yet a remarkably small _limbic_ system, making you a natural thinker with lack of emotion. You have twice the amount of red blood cells than normal human being, making your oxygen distribution and metabolism superior than others. Your modicum nerve cells make you almost impervious to pain. These are not anomalies, Mr. Parker. Anomalies happened at random direction. Your feats are pointing at the same track: to make you a super soldier. You're a Clanner."

Well, I always knew these facts would come out somehow. It was just a matter of time. "I hope it will not change the way you look at me, doctor, because I do not want to be different. I do not want to be treated differently."

"Different? Of course! You can't just walk in here and pretend you're just a normal Solaris victim," the doctor came back to his seat. "A dozen nurses and paramedics already realized that you're not normal when they treated you in the ER. However, you act and talk like an everyday Solaran. No Clanner, in his sanctimonious conscience, would say 'please' to Spheroid. No Clanner would fight in Solaris. You're too modest to be a Clanner, but to exemplary to be a Spheroid. So I ordered a thorough CAT-scan on your brain, and voila!"

The doctor pulled out a copy of my brain. One particular area was dark red, just under the main lobe.

"Like I mentioned before, your _hippocalamus_ is smaller than average human, to give space to your extended _cerebrum_. But in your case, your _hippocalamus_ is almost dead. There are traces of blood clot around the arteries, and my prediction is that you had a massive _hemorrhage_ a while ago. Lucky for you it's your _hippocalamus_. You don't lose anything, just your memory. That explains why you don't act like a normal Clanner. You don't remember anything about being a Clanner."

"Can you fix it?" I jumped at the first opportunity.

"Had you come to me earlier, I would've said yes," he sighed, hating the fact that he had to deliver the bad news. "The damage accumulates through the year, and at this stage, there is nothing I can do. I can refer you to some specialists, but I need to know what happened. Tell me how you develop that scar."

"I do not remember what happened," I began. "I was told that I was Wolf _ristar_ by the name of Darien Kerensky. My jumpship malfunctioned as we headed for Arc Royal, and I was stranded at Engadine. That was 3058. I survived the crash, then came to a nearby town Hogye. One local held a bitter grudge against the Clans, and hit my head. That was the blow that wiped out my memory. Next time I woke up, I did not remember anything. Through the majority of 3059 to 3061 I was taken bondsman by the Jade Falcon. I went to fight _Elementals_ barehanded almost everyday. Perhaps the repeated blows to my head worsened the wound."

"I see," the doctor took notes. "Who's Evee?"

It took me several seconds to believe what the doctor said. "How do you know about Evee?"

"You need a copious amount of morphine to calm you down, and even then you were not fully sedated. You kept calling the name 'Evee', so I think I should ask. Was she in your prior or post 3058?"

"She is," I tried to gain a composure, knowing that talking about Evee would once again tear a new cut over an old wound. "She is the one that guided me through everything. Living without a past was hard, and she helped me to find who I was and who I wanted to be. She is the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Should I notify her about your condition?"

"No," I shook my head. "We moved on."

"It doesn't seem like you have."

"Can we not talk about her, please?" I fumed. "You were talking about recommendations."

"My apology," the doctor was taken aback by my sudden outburst. "At this stage, only 2 brain surgeons that I would recommend you talk to. One is at Atreus, Free World League, the other is at New Avalon, Federated Commonwealth. I would suggest you talk to the one at Free World because the FedCom Civil War might drag the one at New Avalon to meet Davion's deeds. But I must warn you: there's a good chance that the damage was permanent. And the entire procedure will need a lot of money."

"I can handle the money," I smiled. "Give me his contact information. I will give it a chance."

"Then I wish you good luck," the doctor extended his arm for a handshake. "I'll take your information to the counter."

* * *

_**Thor's Shieldhall, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
December 8, 3063**_

Once again I found myself at the top of the list of medium circuit final, outranking Kyle Garret this time. Killing Fist Difalco gave me a considerable boost in reputation. The medium-weight final would be held at Factory Arena, Montenegro. The Montenegro District was a home of Marik supporter, and although Liao and Marik had close relationship that rooted back to invasion of Sarna March, most Free World loyalists hated Fist Difalco. Many were tired of Difalco's antics, not to mention his tight relation to the notorious Grey Wolves.

The talk about medium-weight final far exceeded the talk about others, even the Grand Championship. Kyle and I created such a rivalry that there were more talks about who the better pilot was between Kyle and I than the talks about all the other championships combined. However, some 'experts' still counted the Grey Wolves as major players in the final. The Grey Wolves was severely weakened, but they were not finished. Many of their mechwarriors were still at large, and experts predicted they would make an 'all-or-nothing' performance at the medium championship.

John Daniels was reviewing the list of the contenders for final match when he brought up the subject. "I am not making this up, you know," he stated. "I have dependable source saying that the Grey Wolves were pretty pissed off by the death of Fist Difalco. They're planning something for you, something big that will avenge the death of their golden boy."

"Had I let Difalco have his way, I would have not been in the championship at this moment," I rebuked. "The game system did not give me any choice. And he made it clear that he would kill me. It was me or him."

Daniels drew a deep breath, then chugged his beer to the last drop. "Oh, you stupid jerk. How do you think Difalco get into the medium semifinal? Difalco was past his prime. We both know he did not have enough credit to be in the medium semifinal. Open your eyes, Parker, how did Difalco get into the semifinal?"

It crossed my mind that Daniels was suggesting a macabre way to get around the tight Solaris schedule. Of course, there was another way, but it required me to do the unimaginable. It required me to lower myself to the same level as the Grey Wolves: bribing, threatening, sabotage, hurting other players outside the arenas, and many more. My heart sunk just by thinking about this.

"You do not want to go there," I snarled at him. "You do not want to be a Grey Wolf."

"We are all Grey Wolves, Parker," Daniels chortled, ordering some more liquor bottles. "You obviously need to learn a lot more about Solaris. Everything here is a game. Games have rules, and like any other rules, they were created to be bent… or broken, if you will. Nobody can make it to the top using his own power. The good players know what to do in the arena, the best ones know what to do outside. Do you think your buddy Kyle Garret made it to the final just because he is good? Do you think he coalesces with Captain Morton for no particular reason? Answer me, dammit!"

I could not. I just could not. I never looked at this matter from this perspective before. This string of questions suddenly made me wonder: was I the only one that fought on the arenas with a childlike gusto? Did everybody use alternative ways to push their position through the rank ladder? If that was the case, then what was the true meaning of Solaris Champion? Why did the Spheroid worship their Solaris Champions as demigods if the champions did not need piloting skills? And what was I looking for in such a place?

"Well?" Daniels croaked, demanding a definitive answer.

Well? Yes, my relationship with Kyle was strained since the beginning. I never really trusted him, and although we grew close together lately, I still had some unanswered questions about his past. But I really could not imagine if he benefited from other sources. He was an excellent mechwarrior, and he did not seem to need such aid. Or did he? Should I listen to Daniels at all? He was drunk, but his words may hold some truth.

"If that is the way to win the championship, why did you not tell me earlier?" I emptied my bottle in a large swig. "Why did you let me kill Difalco? Why, after everything went undoable, did you bring up this matter as if we could have done it in a better way?"

Daniels did not answered. He pushed half a bottle of liquor into his throat, watching people strolling on the streets. His eyes went far as if he was daydreaming. But I knew he was not. He was trying to avoid my question, or coin an explanation. I sensed deceit in his gestures, but I always knew from the start that Daniels was not an honest man. He had his own agenda, and whatever it was, nobody would benefit much of it but himself.

Of course, if I thought about it further, his agenda was to milk money from my fights. Second place in the semifinal paid only half of the top winner, and even if he could place me on the final, he had to pay for the service. No, he did not want to do that. As long as I could bring money home, he would not do anything.

"My intention was never to condemn the past," Daniels finally replied. "I brought it up to prepare you for the worst. The medium-weight final will not be an easy path. You have cemented yourself in such imagery that every Liao loyalist wants to kill you. But now you know what you're up against. We can devise a strategy to get out of it. We will prevail, just like the lightweight circuit. This time, you're gonna be the champion. You can beat all Davion and Liao loyalists and emerge a victor."

As much as I wanted to believe him, I knew he was lying.

"Mr. Daniels, I am grateful that you gave me a chance to fight with your stable. But the medium-weight final will be my last fight under your banner. I am leaving Solaris."

His eyes bugged open. "After what I've done to you? You were a bum when you came to Solaris! I sheltered you, I gave you home, I gave you a job, and now you're leaving me? You're leaving Solaris when you're at the height of your career? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, in fact this is something I always wanted to do," I reclined on my seat. "I should have told you that I developed a brain damage. The doctor at Indrahar Memorial Hospital told me that I had a chance to get it fixed at Atreus. I want to take that chance. The money I collect from medium championship should be enough to pay the surgery."

"Look, Parker," Daniels smiled awkwardly, half pleading. "You can't stop now. You're the finest mechwarrior I've ever worked with, and I can tell… I swear by the ghost of Hanse Davion, you can be the Grand Champion of Solaris in the next 2 years. If you give up now, you'll throw away 2 years of hard work!"

"I never wanted to be a mechwarrior in the first place. I applied as a technician, remember?"

"But you're so good at mech fighting! Come on, this is an opportunity billions of people could only drool at! You have it in your hand! I tell you what. I just acquire a new mech, AGS-4D _Argus_. This baby is still hot from the factory, and news from the battlefield is that the Steiner had so much success with this mech. It's a 60-ton mech with enough room to mount the biggest weapons of the Inner Sphere, including the massive Heavy Gauss Rifle. You'll have a chance to commandeer this monster for the first time in Solaris. Do it one more year, until you win the heavy championship, then I'll take care of your travel and surgery expenses! How does that sound?"

As much as I was intrigued by the new mech, it was hard to believe that Daniels was willing to do this for me. Five minutes ago he revealed he was reluctant to spend money to smoothen my way up to the medium-weight final. Now he declared that he was willing to take the responsibility of my surgery. No, this was too good to be true. I did not believe it a bit.

"Mr. Daniels, I can take care of myself," I replied. "I do not want to be indebted to you."

"Parker, crucial things like brain surgery always have high risk," he persisted. "You can be crippled. You can loose your ability to walk, to speak, even to pilot a mech. You can be degenerated into a vegetable who depends on other's mercy. And at that time, no matter how much you want to pilot an _Argus_, you can't. So don't waste your time. We can get your brain fixed next year, but at least give the _Argus_ a chance. Come on, one more year."

I could see his logic. That, and the anxiety to drive a new mech finally turned my decision around. "Alright, one more year. But I am going next year, no matter what happens. I promise to do this for you, so I expect you to honor your words."

"Cross my heart," he chimed, grinning from ear to ear. "You can count on me."

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

TWELVE 

_**Factory Arena, Montenegro,**_

_**Solaris City, Solaris VII,**_

_**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,**_

_**January 17, 3064**_

If there were fanfares on the factory arena, I was sure it would be merry. If there were fireworks on the sky, I was sure they would lit the dark arena with their lively brilliance. If there were spectators at the side of the arena, I was sure they would be chanting the names of their darlings. But none of them existed. The Marik Factory Arena, although hosting the medium-weight final, would remain dim and bleak barring flares from dying mechs. No fanfares, fireworks, or spectators to cheer on us, only mute machineries and walls.

Sixteen combatants had assumed position, ready to deliver their best performance. Another year had past, and once again I was a finalist. This time I won my place fair and square, winning the semifinal instead of being called as a wild card like in the lightweight championship a year ago. This fact was a double-bladed sword; it gave me poise but anxiety, because the Grey Wolves had me on their crosshair. I did not know for a fact what they were planning to do, but at the very least, I could expect Liao partisans playing tag team on me.

The Grey Wolves should be carrying Liao banner, or at least the crest of Liao-backed stable. So far I could only find one mech with Liao crest, a _Griffin_. Others scrapped their crest or repainted their mechs in a funky camouflage to disguise their emblems. As much as I wanted to believe, it was impossible to have only 1 Grey Wolf in the medium final.

Fortunately, Kyle Garret was still eager to work with me.

"I've got an _Arctic Wolf_ bearing Liao logo two mechs on my right flank," he crackled through the comlink. "This sonofabitch covered his crest with spotlight, but damn him if he fools me. I can see he's not interested in me. If he lunges at you, I'll take care of him. You just watch yourself back there."

"Copy," I replied shortly. I did not understand this Kyle Garret. I had been all but nice to him, and he still gave me support, whether I needed it or not. And I did not understand why I could not like him, despite his abiding kindness. Perhaps I was jealous of him for having everything I did not. Perhaps he and Natalie depicted, in their innocent inadvertence, what I could have had with Evee. Or perhaps it was simply my competitive nature. I did not know the answer. I was mad and confused. Had Evee been here, she would have assisted me through it.

_Stravag_, I missed her.

The horn ripped me off my daydream, and I knew the time was nigh. Scanning the battlefield, I realized the _Crab_ on my left, the Liao _Griffin_, the _Arctic Wolf_, and a _Hunchback_ moved toward my position, while others spread in random. Kyle broke free from two mechs that cross-fired him and hit the _Arctic Wolf_ from the back as it made a sprint. The autocannon from his _Centurion_ tore a bad gash on the _Wolf's_ thin rear armor. The _Wolf_ almost lost its balance, but it managed to stay on its feet and quickly turned around to face Kyle.

I could not watch the outcome of the duel. I had a _Crab_ pouring lasers at my left side, and a _Griffin _- _Hunchback_ duo gearing up toward me. The _Griffin_ posed the most threat, so I twisted and slapped a double-shot LBX-10 at the _Crab_. As it wobbled, I punched my jets to get away from it, and slammed my foot on the accelerator to bring my mech sprint toward the _Griffin_.

The _Hunchback_ was still a little further away, so I swung to my left, putting the _Griffin_ right between the _Hunchback_ and me. The _Griffin_ cleared the obstacle and quickly unloaded its entire arsenal at me. The charged particle beam almost hit me on the shoulder, but the rushed shot missed me by a mere centimeter, carving a big hole at the machinery behind me. His missiles streaked the ground, and two warheads punched the armor on my right leg. But aside from chipped armor, my _Black Jack_ remained unharmed.

Earthwerks designed the _Griffin_ with long-range fire support in mind, apparent in its PPC and LRM setup. The pilot clearly understood this drawback as he turned over, drawing me closer toward the _Hunchback_. But I refused to play his game. With the _Crab_ behind me shooting crazily, I charged full speed at the _Hunchback_, waiting until the distance between us was just more than 350 meters, then turned hard to the right. The _Crab_ had an unobstructed sight at the _Hunchback_, and foolishly opened fire with full force. Two laser darts turned the front armor of the _Hunchback_ into orange blob.

I slid past the _Hunchback_ easily as it was occupied by the _Crab_. The _Griffin_ fired its weapons, one of which grazed the skin of my right arm. He refused to fight me at close range, and continued his run while peppering me with its PPC. His position did not allow him to score a good hit, but I could not get close to him to make use of my weapons. This went on for some time, until a BSW-X1 blocked his path. Realizing that he had nowhere to go, he turned around and faced me, raising his guns and attacked me with reckless abandon.

My jump jets pushed me to the left, missing his murderous PPC blast, but his LRM found mark on my torso. A soft tremor enveloped the cockpit, but I did not need much effort to realign my crosshair at the _Griffin_. I fired my lasers to soften the armor, then followed up with one scattershot hit to the torso. Multiple sparks blossomed upon impact, covering mostly on the left torso. The _Griffin_ centered his aim at me, but I ruined his shot by another salvo of LBX-10. It twisted right; arms flailed as my munitions snapped it. The blue bolt spearheaded across the battlefield to carve yet another machinery setup.

The _Griffin_ came back, but the _Bushwacker_ snapped a pot shot from behind. Its autocannon lashed the _Griffin's_ rear armor, pulling off large cracks, and its missiles cored the left torso. The _Griffin_ had his PPC ready for me, but the pilot decided the _Bushwacker_ was the more potent enemy. Why exactly, I did not know. It wound left and hurled his mighty cannon, grilling the _Bushwacker's_ left-side armor. Temporarily shorted did not deter the _Bushwacker_. It realigned the torso and fired its laser, puncturing the front armor in a glowing, dripping pockmark.

Involuntary or not, I welcomed this new development. It was not an ordinary situation where I could conserve my ammunition and armor by watching other players shooting at each other. The _Griffin_ used its blazing speed and agility to pepper the _Bushwacker_ left side, but the _Bushwacker_ large-bored autocannon wore down the _Griffin_, shredding its front armor.

In the end, the _Bushwacker_ hit the harder. One burst of missiles seared off the _Griffin's_ right arm just above the elbow, cutting off half of its firepower. The _Griffin_ retaliated with a clean shot of LRM, but the _Bushwacker_ did not even flinch. It absorbed all missiles, then barked its autocannon and laser simultaneously. Large swath of molten armor painted the air as the autocannon shell blew the bubbling armor clean, exposing engine and reactor casing to the surface. The humanoid mech staggered and backpedaled, showering the _Bushwacker_ left side with missiles. Three consecutive blows finally tore the left torso. Fire and smoke burst from the crack, and burning splinters arced away in the air to mix with sparks and smoke.

But the _Bushwacker_ weathered the damage. It compensated by leaning to its right leg, then pounded the _Griffin_ with everything it had. Short stream of autocannon munitions pumped titanium gristles into the air, while the missiles ripped the torso further. The crimson laser came last, torching the reactor casing and ammunition bins. The _Griffin_ body snapped into 2 parts as the stored warheads erupted in unison, triggered by radioactive spill from the breached reactor. A mighty fireball bloomed, taking up the space where the _Griffin_ had been.

Wasting no time, I whipped my mech forward, firing my entire arsenal at the _Bushwacker's_ right shoulder. My clustered munitions plowed the armor and lodged into the myomer, and my lasers cut through the hinge. A geyser of sparks roused to the air, preceding a mini fireball that enveloped the _Bushwacker's_ right-arm joint. The mighty gun clanged to the hard plaster, and the 55-tonner leaned on its left leg, compensating the loss of mass.

But in a swift counterassault, the _Bushwacker's_ large laser burnt a slab of armor on my torso. My _Black Jack_ teetered, and before I could regain full control, missiles struck my left torso, pushing me further to the right. I felt like my mech was seconds away from toppling, but I manipulated the jet thrusters, regaining balance, time, and a much-needed space at the same instance.

Deep down, I respected the _Bushwacker_ pilot. He knew his mech well and could use it like he was born to. But he overestimated his mech's endurance. His over reliance on the _Bushwacker's_ armor became his undoing. The _Griffin_ managed to punch a hole on its left armor, and I exploited it further. I linked my twin LBX-10 together and let him have it. One-two shots of my LBX cannons twisted the _Bushwacker_, and the shockwave finally heaved its left leg. The mech toppled to its right, on top of its stump that was its right arm. Chain explosion consumed the mech's left torso, starting from the _Griffin_-cored hole and spread through its entire left side. I readied my lasers to guarantee a kill, but it was not necessary. The _Bushwacker_ would not come back.

A couple hundred meters from me, Kyle and the _Arctic Wolf_ were still locked in a stalemate, and there was no sign this duel would end soon. The Liao pilot proved to be a worthy adversary for the young Davion. The _Arctic Wolf's_ streak 6-pack missiles pounded the _Centurion_ almost unabated, but its torso was shredded in several places, a clear testament of Kyle's ferocity in medium circuit.

"Do you mind if I chip in?" I readied my guns.

"He might," Kyle replied in mirth. "Knock yourself out."

At his concession, I put my crosshair at the _Arctic Wolf's_ left side. The Liao pilot realized a new threat, but his reflex was not fast enough to save him. My shells found home at its left torso. I could almost see the wrath bubbling on the eyes of the pilot when he realized that his plan to tag-team me now work against him. He quickly regained balance, but a brutal punch from Kyle's AC-10 slammed it left torso, precisely where my shells landed a second before. Losing balance, the _Arctic Wolf_ had nowhere else to go but down.

As the Liao struggled to get up, I observed the battlefield. There were only 5 mechs left on the arena, and the Liao _Hunchback_ was one of them. It obviously got over the _Crab_, and was now handling a _Shadow Hawk_. The ancient Star-League-era battlemech could not handle the _Hunchback's_ AC-20, and the duel would soon end in the _Hunchback_ favor.

"_Hunchback_ is still alive," I told Kyle through private channel. "We have to finish this _Arctic Wolf_ fast."

"Got it," Kyle's response came sharp and crisp. "Same place, same time, on my signal."

The _Arctic Wolf_ had rose to its feet, and streak missiles charged me like tidal waves. I held my joystick firmly as the warheads flogged every inch of my mech, flaying armor and reducing the level to orange. My mech slouched backward, teetering at the heels, almost toppling over if the computer did not recalibrate the balancing. It trod back down in a savage thud, but nevertheless ready for the counter attack. My mental image danced on my head, picturing the fear in the pilot's eyes as all guns trained at its weakened torso.

"Fire!" Kyle remarked, and my thumb reacted at his command. The combined assault forced the _Arctic Wolf_ to bend and contort, weathering the massive impact. Coolant bled out hissing, and the remaining structure of its left torso was wiped out, leaving only twisted metal as memento of what it had been. Once again the _Arctic Wolf_ stumbled, and with one arm less, it took longer to get back on its feet.

"Would you do the honor?" Kyle quipped.

"No, it is yours," I replied, shifting my attention to the _Hunchback_. "I have two already, and my mech still has enough armor to take on the _Hunchback_."

"Stay away from its autocannon. I'll meet you once I'm finished with the _Arctic Wolf_."

I could tell that the _Hunchback's_ pilot was almost as good as the _Arctic Wolf's_. Bagging two kills, the most damage was at its left torso, the place that held no significant weapons. He surely knew how to maneuver, and even if he was a lousy shot, his AC-20 was a menace to almost any mech in existence, even assaults. On the other hand, he might have been ammo-deprived. But I did not want to speculate.

I met the _Hunchback's_ dash, sprinting full sped, until I was less than 500 meters away from it. I blasted my LBX-10's at its torso. At that range, the fragmented shells did not have enough power to penetrate the entire armor, but there was only a latex-thin armor on the left torso that my shot managed to squeeze out sparks and smoke. The _Hunchback_ keeled over, but quickly restore its stance. Its arms twinkled, shooting twin ruby darts at my shoulder. My console rang, shouting critical damage when my armor tracker of my left torso blinked in red. But I could care less about his lasers. If he still had enough ammunition for his monster autocannon, he would use it now.

I quickly sidestepped, and a quarter second after, the mammoth nozzle at the _Hunchback's_ right torso flickered. Yellow traces of ballistics zipped past my head and floated into futility. It turned around to track me, but a set of missiles hit its torso. Six warheads clobbered the flaming left torso, and a bright explosion breached its left arm, spinning in the air before skidding gracelessly on the ground.

The _Hunchback_ turned its guns at Kyle, but realized that he was still out of range. It came back to me, but I was ready. The sound of my LBX-10's made my ears ringing, but the explosion of the _Hunchback_ buried everything. Splinters in various sizes shrouded my mech; some nagged the plexiglass canopy of my cockpit. Nevertheless, no further damage was done.

And then, there were only Kyle and me left standing, just like the lightweight championship. This time, my mech was in better condition than his _Centurion_. His mech had reached combat loss grouping, blinking red on every section. I knew, and he might as well knew, that this championship belonged to me. But I did not have the desire to win. He could have watch me fighting the Grey Wolves alone, then mowed down however was left standing. The fact that I only received moderate damage was due to his effort. No, I did not want to win without an explanation.

"Why did you do it, Kyle?" I could not suppress my anxiety. "Why did you help me?"

"You are critical in our quest to bring the Grey Wolves to their knees," Kyle stated. "It is for Davion's interest that you don't die in the hands of Liao partisans. Besides, Evee would appreciate it very much."

As much as I abhorred being used as political means, it was his last comment that annoyed me to the core. Could he for once stay away from my personal matter? What was Evee to him that he kept treating me like a lost kid? "Evee and I are finished," I spat my curt reply. "You can stop giving me charities on her behalf."

"We both know it is not true."

How dare he accuse me of lying? Damn _freebirth!_ I throttled up, putting my crosshair squarely on the _Centurion's_ midst. I hated the fact that the fight was heavily in my favor, but if I did not finish him, I concurred with his insult. I could, and I should, call for Trial of Grievance. But finishing him would suffice. "Your effort is greatly appreciated, but none is taken as debt. Guard yourself, Kyle Garret. May the best warrior win."

"May the best warrior win," he zipped to the right. He was still fast, despite his crumbling mech. I fired one of my LBX, but he slid easily, letting my clustered round swerved harmlessly behind his back. His missiles stampeded toward me. I knew they were not guided, so I fired my jets, taking me airborne 50 meters, missing the missiles that slammed into the wall. I jetted forward and fired my other cannon, but he flinched effortlessly. His AC-10 belched, hitting my wrecked torso, wiping off the last ton of armor, rendering my medium laser useless.

The blast served as a wake up call for me. I had been consumed by wrath, and I relied entirely on my strength to quickly destroy his damaged _Centurion_. I lost a weapon as a result. Kyle Garret was not a type of enemy that could be overwhelmed by firepower. I had to penetrate his mind, seeking out what he was planning, and cutting off his move before he had a chance to execute it. And I could not do it with rage.

So I leaned back in my command couch, letting him douse my mech with his missiles. The sound of explosions echoed through the cockpit, turning my stomach upside down. But I twisted, exposing my good side toward the missiles. The quake lasted several seconds, until my left side was bright red in hue.

I dashed forward, quickly eating up the distance between us. My right LBX roared, but Kyle ducked, sliding to my right. Lasers peppered my right side as the _Centurion_ swerved past my blind spot. I triggered my jump jets, flying and pivoting in the air, giving me an unadulterated view of the _Centurion_. Kyle abruptly reversed direction, expecting me to fire my left cannon. Had I done that, I would have missed, and he would have had two free seconds to sink his AC-10 slug into my chest.

Smart play, but I was not about to be outsmarted.

I held my trigger for another second, waiting for Kyle to get into a stable run, then fired off. Tongues of fire licked as the entire right torso exploded. The lanky mech sprawled, its legs flailed in vain attempt to keep standing. It fell flat on its face. Defiant to the bitter end, Kyle prepped up his mech using his remaining arm, but my right LBX-10 had clanged to the ready. I pulled the trigger, watching the munitions shredded Kyle's left arm to pieces. The Centurion fell again, and without arms, it remained stationary on the ground.

I trained all weapons to Kyle's mech, lying haplessly on the ground, but I did not want to finish it. I hated this victory. I felt cheated from a fair match. I did not deserve to be the champion, because my triumph was semi-premeditated by House Davion. And in a blind rage, I beat the true champion who was Davion's lamb in a lopsided match. It was everything I abhorred in a _zellbrigen_. I simply lowered my weapons, waiting for the announcer to proclaim my victory, then walked toward the hangar. I would need a lot of liquor to get out of this mental torment.

Yes, a lot of liquor.


	13. Chapter 13

**THIRTEEN**

**Note:**Thanks to **Callidus** and other readers for the kind support. We are halfway to the end, and this story has scored more than two-thousand hits. It's always encouraging to know that people appreciate the time and effort I invested. From this point, everything will get darker, but I hope people still enjoy it.

* * *

_**Thor's Shieldhall, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
March 14, 3064**_

Another year passed. Two months of living away from the arena finally put my mind to rest. It was hard, thinking that everything I believed in turned out to be a lie. But talking to Kyle, Emi, and drinking a lot of beer helped me get over it. I could accept the fact that I was the middleweight champion, although it was not a perfect match. But I lived in an imperfect world. At least one good thing came out of the medium-weight season: Liao syndicate was broken. Although Morton had never apprehended the rest of the Grey Wolves, they vanished.

Now another season loomed in the horizon. I had been practicing with a brand new mech, the _Argus_. It was a fine-tuned machine, and I really like the easy handling of the 60-ton mech. The main drawback were the fact that it was at the lower limit of heavyweight class, and its Rotary Autocannon 5 that jammed with each long burst. But the agility and the small profile made up for the lack of armor and annoying gun. Although I had to detour from my initial plan, I felt that fighting another season in heavyweight class would be worth it.

Unfortunately, heavy and assault classes were home of a Solaris biggest crime syndicate, La Cosa Nostra. This syndicate had corrupted almost every aspect of Solaris, especially those at Silesia. Steiner's doctrine of warfare leaned heavily towards heavier mechs and large-bored weapons, so they focused their attention on heavy and assault classes only. With FedCom Civil War heightened up to a full-blown confrontation, I wondered why Captain Morton did not go after La Cosa Nostra, but instead meddled with the pesky Liao partisans. Perhaps the scale of this crime syndicate was far beyond his authority.

Emi gave me a hint of what was waiting for me on the heavy circuit. She caught a conversation between 2 La Cosa Nostra members while serving drinks to them. "Steiner domination is quite significant in the heavyweight, and a bit extreme on the assault," she told me. "La Cosa Nostra is not happy with your collaboration with Kyle Garret and Captain Morton. They see you as a threat to their existence."

"I worked with them, but I never pledged allegiance to the Davions," I replied. "And I knew what these syndicates are able to do. The Grey Wolves tried it, but I survived."

"Grey Wolves are mere bugs compared to La Cosa Nostra," Emi took a chair next to me. "They have networks from the juries to technicians, people that have the authority – and audacity – to sabotage you in any way imaginable. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"What do you suggest?" I played along with her.

"Kyle and Natalie are staunch Davion soldiers," she sighed, her face pouted. "And Morton is the chief of Black Hills District. Perhaps it's for your best interest if you reconsider your relationship with them. I'm not saying that you have to break your friendship with them. I'm just saying… the Steiners have eyes everywhere. If they see you hanging out with them too many times, they'll see you as a Davion."

"Emi, I would be happy to spend less time with them, but not for politics," I stood my ground. "I do not belong to any factions, and I refused to take part in the civil war. Kyle and Natalie are related to me through a mutual acquaintance, and Morton tags along with Kyle. No politics are involved." I paused, curious of where she stood in this war-marred world. "It seems to me that you are swinging me toward the Steiner. Are you a Steiner?"

"I am a server at Thor's Shieldhall," she reclined on her chair, snorting. "Neither Steiner nor Davion care what my allegiance is. But you, Parker, you're the defending champion of medium circuit. You're leading a huge mob that worship you like a god. You're naïve if you think Kyle hasn't tried to drag you to join Davion. And if the Steiners haven't made a move to recruit you, they soon will.

"This stupid civil war had changed the way Solaris games are played in heavy circuit. You're entering a division where the Steiners and Davions use the arenas as replicas of their front-line combats. The Solaris games used to be pure sports. Now they're war. And when you enter a war, you have to take side, whether you like it or not. And taking side means waging war against the other. I know where you stand, Parker, but wouldn't it be better for you to take the safe side, until this war ends?"

"And is Steiner the safe side, considering their influence on the heavy circuit?" I understood her concern, and I greatly appreciated it. But I did not want to do something based on politics. I squeezed her hand, shooting a soothing smile, "Thank you for your apprehension, but if I swung toward Steiner, I would be a political player. I am not, and I have no desire to be one. I will remain neutral, and I will do it no matter what happen to me in the arena. Rest your worry. I can take care of myself."

Emi looked at me, her eyes originating anxiety. But she knew I would not budge from my standpoint. She nodded, tapping my hand with both hands, and smiled, "Then promise me you'll behave like a neutral warrior. No hanging out with the Davions too much. And watch who you kill in the arena. You're my best customer, and I hate to lose you because of some stupid ideologies."

"I will keep that in mind," I concurred. "Now get me another beer. This political talk makes me thirsty."

She winked and got off the table, walking behind the counter. The bar was sparse, and the TV hanging above the bartender showed Duncan Fisher, a self-proclaimed Solaris legend turned TV host, interviewing a mechwarrior. I heard he was a big player in heavy circuit, so I was attracted to see what the interview was all about.

"Mr. Maxwell, you had amazing years in the heavy circuit," Duncan said in a casual tone, trying to make the mechwarrior relax without sucking up too much. "You have been the heavyweight champion for 5 years in a row, and nobody seems to be able to keep up with your style. What's your secret?"

"You know Duncan, from my experience there are 3 components for winning recipe in Solaris," the mechwarrior replied, his voice was throaty with conceit. "Strategy, weaponries, and determination. The Lyran Alliance has the best weaponries and tacticians in the Inner Sphere. I only give them my determination to win."

Well, there it was: Steiner's propaganda, just like Emi mentioned.

"This season we have two Davion-supported players moving up from the medium circuit: Kyle Garret and Parker. Kyle was the champion and Parker was the runner up of lightweight circuit in 3063, and they switched position in medium championship last season. Some predict that these two will give you real matches this season; many even went farther: they will dethrone you. What is your view on that?"

"You can tell the naysayer's that I have been in this circuit for almost a decade, and I am the champion for 5 straight years. The heavy circuit is my home, my turf, my battlefield. We never heard about the Davions before 3062, and they've never fought in heavy circuit. I heard their exploits in light and medium circuits, but I believe it was only Davion propaganda. Heavy mechs are different than tin cans they used to drive. They need some time to adjust. I'd be surprised if they reach midseason."

"You sound pretty comfortable."

"Well, you know Davions. They're all talk. Just like their leader, Victor. There's nothing to worry about. They might make a break on initial rounds, but they won't be able to keep up with heavyweight pressure, even with their fancy Clan moves."

If his record did not speak for his ferocity in the arenas, I would have neglected his gloating. But he was the champion for 5 years. Gloating was common among low-rank players, but it became scarcer and scarcer with the increasing skill. Thrash talking, that might happen, but not gloating. So why did a player his caliber gloat like a _zombie_? Insulting Victor Davion, no less? It could be his personality. Or perhaps he was not great, but La Cosa Nostra – or Steiners, for that matter – always found a way to put him ahead of everybody. He was young and handsome, a perfect combination to be the spear tip of Steiner's propaganda.

I was not worried about his skill. I knew I could beat him in one-on-one combat. I was a bit nervous about what could happen after I beat him. I had not forgotten how the Grey Wolves made me miserable, and according to Emi, La Cosa Nostra were far more ruthless than the Grey Wolves. I had a feeling that, sooner or later, I would cross path with this Maxwell guy, and it was too late to turn around. I had to start planning my strategy.

"Getting nervous about your next battle, I see," a familiar voice greeted me.

I looked up and saw John Daniels, followed by a young male who seemed to be barely out of his puberty. I saw a glint of confusion and fear in his eyes, but they soon disappeared, replaced by an array of wonder. I would guess he was a newbie who was trying to rise to fame, and Daniels grabbed him at the first opportunity. I did not know what Daniels planned for the kid, but I had a feeling that it had something to do with my next battle. Otherwise he would not bring the kid to my attention.

"This is Joey," Daniels stated. "He's new and just joining our stable."

"Mr. Parker, it's an honor to fight with you," Joey the kid shook my hand with enthusiasm. "I've been following your game, and I am anxious to be fighting with you in the arena."

"Be careful what you wish for," Daniels grabbed a seat. "It'll happen sooner that you expected."

"Sooner?" I shifted in my seat, shooting a demanding stare at my stable master. Something was not right. The kid seemed too eager to jump into the arena, and judging by what he said, I would be fighting with him. "What is going on here?"

"Our shift to heavy circuit drew a lot of attention, especially Steiner loyalists," Daniels hushed as if he was afraid of eavesdroppers. "They set us up with 'Mad' Maxwell, the guy you've been watching on TV. He's the reigning champion of heavyweight class for 5 straight years. He's ruthless and cold, and he's in a Clan _Vulture_. Nobody had ever touched him the last 5 years. Nobody."

"I know that fact," I watched the TV again, showing Maxwell talking more and more about how great it was to liaise with Lyran Alliance. "So I will fight him in my first match in heavy arena. I just thought about this. I did not realize it would happen this fast."

"He's scared," Daniels responded in disgust. "That creep is scared. I can tell you that. That's why he wants to fight you as early as possible. He said it himself: you're not fully familiar fighting in a heavy mech. He's taking advantage of your adjustment period by fighting you before you get full flow. So he arranges the match at the Coliseum three weeks from now."

I could not help but smile at Daniels. I doubt he came up with this rationalization himself. If he had the ability to deduct such an eloquent strategy, he would have owned a great stable. He must have overheard somebody talking about it, and was provoked. Nevertheless, it made perfect sense. My demise in heavy circuit (and perhaps subsequently Kyle's) was twofold: smoothening up Maxwell's path to his sixth straight championship and sending a message that Steiner was superior to Davion. It was only natural that they wanted me (and Kyle) out of the competition as soon as possible.

"Thank you for this information," I nodded my gratitude. "Three weeks is enough for me to get a grip on the _Argus_. I will be ready for him."

"You don't know this guy," Daniels grunted. "He's a nightmare! You can't fight him alone!"

"You seem to undermine me," I coined disappointment. "Have I done anything but bringing you money and fame, Mr. Daniels? Trust me, I know I can beat him."

"Listen to me Parker," Daniels' voice turned grief. "People are rooting for you, but the betting stands still favor Maxwell. Currently you are 3-to-1 odd, and it'll increase as you're getting close to the match. This is a perfect chance to score some big c-bills. I know this is a contest of virility for you mechwarriors, but try to look at it from my perspective. If we can win a 5-to-1 odd, we'll be rich! You know what it means, Parker. You can't lose!"

I was taken aback by his last comment. _I cannot lose?_ This was the first time Daniels ever said it to me. I had been an underdog several times, but he had never been this jittery about winning a match. This betting binge started to make me confused, and I suspected there was more to this from Daniels. "If Maxwell plays it fair, I will win the match. This much I can guarantee."

"I've been in this business for a long time, and I can tell there is no such guarantee. We have to make it happen. That's where Joey comes into play," he shot a glance at the young mechwarrior. "I induced some juries to include Joey on the match. When the match starts, you shut down your mech. Let Maxwell go after Joey. When he turned your back against you, power up and nail him from behind. Bam! He's gone! You win!"

It took me half a minute to realize what Daniels was implying. He was sacrificing this young mechwarrior, and revealing it right in front of his face! I could not believe he did that. And even though this plan went perfectly well, the Steiners and La Cosa Nostras would not let it go. They would come after us in any possible way to avenge their star.

"No! I will not proceed!" I protested. "How could you ask me to consciously defile the rules of the arena? You will ruin everybody's career!"

"I will be happy to die for your, Mr. Parker!" Joey suddenly tuned in.

"Nobody is going to die because we are not doing this!" I snarled.

"Why? Do you think you can get the championship with full homage for the rules?" Daniels fumed.

"I am the medium circuit champion, am I not?"

"Then you haven't seen Solaris yet!" he nudged the table with his fist. "Open your eyes, Parker! Who cares about honor and rules of engagement? As long as we have c-bills, we make our own rules! And this is the perfect opportunity to cash in! Solaris is about money and fame, Parker. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing else!"

"Then," I drank the last drop in my bottle, "I am afraid you will have to do it without me. I do not want to sell my soul for money and fame. If you ask me to cheat, you ask me to do something that I am not. I am sorry, but I will not do as you told."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Daniels raised his voice. "There is no cheating in Solaris! Truth is relative, rule is supple! And the heart of the life in Solaris is c-bills. You can do anything you want if you have money. I can't imagine you can't grip this concept after living here for almost 3 years."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Daniels, but I will not do it," I got up, putting money on the table for Emi. "Perhaps Joey will be a better fighter for you."

Before I could walk out of the bar, Daniels grabbed my arm, yanking my shirt to get close to my face. "You promised, Parker! You promised to fight for me one more year before I take care of all your expenses. You expected that I honor my words. How dare you tarnish your own words?"

"I did not promise to cheat!"

"For God sake, there is no cheating in Solaris! And who cares if we cheat or not? I'm no Clanner, Parker, and neither are you! So stop talking about honor! The only honor you'll know is your own words!"

That was as far as I would tolerate him. I cocked my right arm, ready to deck him in the face. But then, I knew his words held the truth. I did promise to fight for another season under his stable. I did not promise to cheat, nor I promised to do otherwise. I never thought about it because I never suspected that Daniels would take it to this level. This had gone too far for me, but I realized that my hands were bound by my own words.

Slowly I lowered my arm, then went back to my chair. My head throbbed, knowing that I could not do anything but to proceed with this heinous act. Daniels certainly got me on my weakest point: my pride to keep my words. Had I known that he would use it for his advantage, I would have never promised him anything.

"What if he spots me when I am shutting down?" I tried to cancel his plan by reasoning.

"The match coordinator will place Maxwell right in front of Joey. As soon as the horn blare, Joey will smack the hell out of Maxwell. It'll rob his focus out of you. You wait a moment until he fully concentrates in Joey, then spring up and cross-fire him from the back."

"The Steiners will not let this one go easily."

"But with the money we get from the match, we can buy an entire army to keep the Steiners at bay."

I would have smashed his head with a beer bottle if I could. "Do you realize that you are putting Joey on Maxwell's crosshair? You deliberately use him as my shield. How could a person in his right mind do that?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Parker," Joey chimed. "I've got you covered. It's an honor to fight with you."

At this point, I could not think anymore. These two scoundrels had just undone everything I believed to be Spheroid's rectitude. I did not, could not, and would not understand what they were thinking, and for a second I cursed my decision to leave the Wolf in Exile 5 years ago. But there was nothing I could do. I just reclined in my chair, rubbing my head, and asked them to leave. "I want to be alone, please."

"Don't get too cocky with the plan," Daniels tapped my shoulder before he got up. "You still had to practice with the _Argus_."

Dear Alexander Kerensky, my head hurt.

"Is everything alright with you?" Emi came by my table. "Do you want another beer?"

"No Emi, I need something stronger than a beer," I sighed. "Much stronger."

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**FOURTEEN**

_**Steiner Coliseum, Silesia,  
Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
April 5, 3064**_

I stepped into the arena sweating with anxiety.

Even before I stepped out of the hangar, I could hear the thunder that was Silesia spectator, chanting the name of 'Mad' Maxwell, the hometown hero. This was just the first heavy match of this season, but the stadium was already sold out. The return of Maxwell to beloved Steiner stadium created such a cavalcade that nobody could hear the names of other combatants. But for Silesia spectators, they did not matter. All they wanted to hear was Maxwell, and all they wanted to see was Maxwell mowing down other mechs one by one, until he lasted the victor. However, they did not make me nervous.

No, I was not afraid of Maxwell. I watched his videos, and I could see some loopholes in his defense, which I could exploit. He was good, but he was not as good as what he implied in his antics. After watching his previous fights, I believed that his championship streak was largely influenced by Steiner's dirty hands behind the scene. He did not make me nervous at all.

Daniels' strategy to oust Maxwell made me nervous. More than fifty thousand pairs of eyes would witness me pulling off the biggest cheat in Solaris history, and the victim would be Steiner's own poster boy. I did not understand why Daniels could not foresee an uproar if we proceeded with his plan. Was it because Silesia was a more civilized district than Cathay? Or was it because Daniels felt comfortable sitting on top of a pile of money? How much money could he spend to make fifty thousand Steiner loyalists happy?

And then, the Clan in me still despised any wrongdoing against _zellbrigen_. Well, this was not entirely _zellbrigen_, and I had been stealing victories here and there. But what we planned against Maxwell was utterly disgusting, even by Inner Sphere standard. I thought the Grey Wolves were low. It turned out that I had not seen everything at Solaris.

No, I would not do it.

"Joey, listen to me," I tried to undo the setup. "When the horn rang, get out of Maxwell's line of fire. I will take care of him."

"Mr. Parker, we can't back out now. I carry special instruction from Mr. Daniels to cover you while you move into position. I will carry my order no matter what."

"Daniels is using you!" I lost my patience. "His order is suicide! Turn you mech away from Maxwell!"

"I can't do that Mr. Parker. I will set up Maxwell for you to kill. I will be happy to assist you."

"I did not need your assistance, _freebirth!_ Do what I say and just save yourself!"

I did not know why I use that epithet. It seemed that I slipped often when I was on the brink of rage. I never meant to insult anybody, although this Joey guy deserved a regiment of insults for his retardation. Was this a sign of recovery, that I was getting my memory back? Or was it a sign of deterioration, that I lost more and more self-control? I did not know the answer. Nevertheless, there was a gap of silence, then Joey came back to me in full force, "What did you say?"

Before I had a chance to reply, the horn blasted. I glanced over the shut down button for a second, and decided I would not do it. My mech was covered by Romanesque pillars, but I could see Maxwell's _Mad Dog, _or _Vulture_ in Spheroid tongue, making its way to the center. Joey paced his mech from the right corner, going straight toward Maxwell's line of fire. It was a stupid maneuver.

I remembered fighting a _Mad Dog_. It was a nasty long-ranged omnimech with blazing speed. At close range, it was not that effective, so it usually paired up with its soul mate, the _Helbringer_. But the omni design made it easy to overhaul. Maxwell used 4 Clan Streak 6-pack missiles instead of the traditional LRM-20's, and reduced the laser load to 2 medium pulse lasers. It was a wise choice, considering most of the encounters in Solaris arenas were brawls. Joey's _Dragon_ would not stay long against the horde of streak missiles.

I hit my throttle, bringing my mech into a sprint. A _Crusader_ blocked my path. It was funny to see one of the Star League designs still making appearance in modern era. The _Crusader_ fired its missiles, but I did not hear a ring on my console. The missiles were not locking on. I simply leaned 20 degrees on my left leg, letting the missiles sailed harmlessly on my right, and sprinted past the befuddled 65-ton relic. Before it could realign its cursor, I made a tight bank to the right, leaving it stranded behind the pillars.

Joey carried out his order single-mindedly, attacking Maxwell in full force. His autocannon belched fire, spitting rounds after rounds of munitions. But Maxwell showed his quality by dodging most of Joey's marksmanship, although a couple shots punched holes on his armor. His pulse laser continuously pounded the _Dragon_ on the torso, and his streak missiles hit Joey like a drum, one after another, keeping Joey on the defense almost the entire time. Soon enough, Joey's torso went red, and he lost almost two third of his armor.

I had Maxwell on my crosshair, and I hit my trigger. Two ruby strands stabbed the _Mad Dog_ at the back, turning armor into bubbling jelly. I did not want to hurt him. I just wanted to get his attention. But when Maxwell ignored me, I sent my missiles flying in the air, pounding him right where my lasers struck five seconds ago. The _Mad Dog_ lurched forward, and its rear armor caved in into numerous cracks.

"Sonofabitch!" I heard Maxwell spat out his frustration. "I thought you were better than that!"

"He is not worth it Maxwell," I swerved to his left flank. "Pick someone your own size!"

"From my point of view, he's as big as me," he cackled, obviously referring to the _Mad Dog_ and _Dragon_ having the same tonnage. "Wait your turn!"

He showered Joey with his Streak missiles, half of which tore a nasty gap at Joey's left torso. He left me no choice. I hit my RAC button. A long rattle shook the _Argus_ as dozens of traces leapt from the gatling-like right arm, shoving the _Mad Dog_ to its right side. A series of curse flooded comlink, accompanying ferro-fibrous splinters that rained down on the sand of the arena. I kept the pressure, keeping the omnimech off balance, then made a quick turn to my left.

"You know what I mean," I growled, firing my lasers. "Leave the kid alone and fight me."

"If that's what you wish, Davion!" he turned around and quickly released a dozen Streak missiles. "Let's see what you're made of!"

One of the most dangerous close-range weapons in existence, the Streak missiles quickly closed up on me and pounded me from every direction. The force of the explosions threw my crosshair off. I kept my course, circling him, but before I could realign my targeting reticule, another set of missiles swarmed me. I yanked the joystick backward, keeping my mech in balance as the missiles poked it left and right. Then two sets of laser slammed into my missile launcher. I returned fire with my RAC, but Maxwell outgunned me with his continuous stream of missiles. Once again the missiles struck my torso, throwing my target, and the excess RAC munitions flew in the air and blasted the thick plexiglass that shielded the spectators from stray fires.

I inspected my _Argus_. I had given up about one-third of armor. Maxwell's _Mad Dog_ was virtually unscratched barring the rear armor, and I still had difficulty beating his rhythmical blasts. But by the way he fought, I knew he would soon overheat. The question was whether my mech could weather the storm until then.

His missiles came again, and I pushed my mech into a crouch. It did not help. The missiles flew above my head, but then looped and slammed into my rear armor. The shockwave pushed my mech forward, and I would have crashed into the console if the harness did not nail me to my command seat. My armor tracker turned bright red, and a couple of his pulse laser coerced it to blink. Maxwell knew how to shoot, and his marksmanship peppered the most vulnerable spots on my mech.

However, I started to see signs of overheating. Maxwell fired his lasers a couple more times, then dumped a copious amount of coolant. Smoke and steam rose from his mech. He proceeded with his much-loved Streak missiles, but the targeting computer would not allow it to make a correct lock. For the first time through the entire fight, he missed.

It was my turn, then.

I rose up to my feet and hit alpha strike button. The muzzle flash of my RAC, the fire from my rockets, and the blitz of my lasers blinded me for a short while, and all but three missiles cored Maxwell right on the center torso. The 60-ton omnimech writhed sustaining my assault. I kept my finger on my RAC trigger, strafing Maxwell's torso just under his cockpit. As quickly as my lasers recycled, I added them into my onslaught. The continuous rattle of my RAC made my ears numb, and I knew they would be ringing for a long time. But I could not afford to give him his edge. I had to press my attack, keeping him fighting on his heels all the time.

Maxwell squirmed, trying to break free from my pressure, but I used my missiles to keep him off balance. Clan's ferro-fibrous was better than Spheroid's counterpart, so I knew I would need more pressure to break the _Mad Dog's_ defense. I followed his movement, keeping my RAC burst short and centered, avoiding jamming that was the weapon's notoriety. When I rested my RAC, I made up with my lasers and missiles. Soon, Maxwell's center torso bled fire and smoke.

I kept moving in circle, and almost reached Maxwell's blind spot when missiles struck him from his right flank. Joey joined the fray, clubbing Maxwell with his remaining weapons. But his attack negated my pressure. Maxwell regained balance, and in a flash fired his Streak missiles. I twisted to the right, covering my RAC from the missiles. As a result, the missiles ripped my launcher apart. Three consecutive explosions pushed my mech to lurch right. I was fortunate I only lost my left arm. I could have lost my left torso in ammo explosion. But still, I lost 35-percent of my offensive capability.

"Joey, get away from Maxwell!" I screamed in exasperation. "Do not interfere with my fight!"

"Say what you want, Clanner!" Joey replied. "This _frakker_ is mine!"

His lasers pounded Maxwell in the midst, pumping smoke and drips of molten metal from point-blank range. But Maxwell was in full flow. Two dozen of Streak missiles slammed into Joey's midst, breaching both arms and wiping the remaining armor. The _Dragon_ backpedaled several steps before slumping, landing squarely on its butt. Joey struggled to get up, but without arms, his futile effort ended in a pond of leaking coolant.

"Maxwell, leave him alone!" I shot a RAC burst at Maxwell's side. "Fight me!"

But Maxwell ignored me. He waited until his weapons were all operational, then fired his alpha strike. His missiles swarmed Joey like a tsunami. The _Dragon_ did not take long to explode. A bonfire took the place where the _Dragon_ sat a minute ago, and the ejection pod was swallowed by the pillar of fire, burying Joey in his fiery tomb.

"What did the kid call you?" Maxwell turned to me, guns at the ready. "Clanner?"

"It is none of your business," I put my crosshair squarely against his smoking torso.

"No wonder you are so adept at Clan maneuvers. Have you no honor left, _trashborn_? First you fight for money, now you side with the Davions. Then you double-teamed a Steiner… at Steiner Coliseum. Do you really think those small feats of yours will earn the sympathy of the audience? Because if you do, I applaud your idiocy."

"I am no longer a Clanner, and I am not a Davion," I growled my response. "Come on, let us finish it like you wanted it to be finished."

"What I want," he fired his missiles, "is you at the bottom of a bonfire!"

His missiles chastised me again, and I could hear mnemonic warning signs erupted from my console. But I pushed my throttle forward, using the impact and explosions as a boost to break into a sprint. Maxwell did not expect this, and before he knew it, I was at his blind spot. He twisted frantically, trying to catch me from the other side, but I already had the advantage. All I had to do was to keep and use it.

My RAC roared again, sending depleted-uranium slugs to the scar at the _Mad Dog's_ back. Once again Maxwell reeled forward, but his reflex saved him from crashing on his face. He pivoted to the left, swinging left to catch me, but I maintained my advantage, ripping his rear armor with RAC-laser combination. Soon my munitions reached its reactor shield, and I could see blue light spewed from the crack. Radioactive waste seeped into coolant container, torching the green fluid. Fire bled off the wound, and the _Mad Dog_ twisted and staggered, losing power and the will to continue the fight.

"You may win this round, Clanner, but don't think the war is over," he hissed as he limped toward a corner.

"I have no desire to take part in your civil war," I replied.

"Bullshit! Kill me, and all Steiners will unite to burn you and all the Davions!"

"I do not want to kill you, Maxwell. Yield and walk out of here in dignity."

"Hah! Go to hell with your _hegira_!" Maxwell raised his turret to hit me. I had no choice but to singe him with a long burst of RAC. My metal drones pierced the remaining armor on his torso and drilled his engine. A blinding flash leapt into the sky as the _Mad Dog_ expanded into a fireball, ripping the 60-ton omnimech from inside. There was no sign of Maxwell ejecting.

I wondered how many players heard Joey's outburst, or my conversation with Maxwell. Hopefully only these two heard me saying Clan epithet. It was not that I did not want to be known as an ex-Clansman. I was ashamed to be associated with Wolf. I always strived to maintain Clan's qualities, but since I arrived at Solaris I lost them one by one. I drifted farther and farther away from myself, and I did not know why I let it happen.

I refocused on the arena, and there were only 3 mechs left. One was a flaming _Champion_ limping to safety behind some Romanesque arcs, the other one was a one-armed _Warhammer_ circling the arena, trying to get a quick shot at the _Champion_ from long distance. None of them posed real threat, but one sucker punch from the PPC could put me in misery. That said, I went to fight the _Warhammer_ first.

The _Warhammer_ saw me charging it and quickly fired its PPC. I simply bobbed, letting the blue streak flew above my cockpit. Getting in range, I triggered my RAC. I could see pieces of armor flying in every direction as my cannon rounds mutilated the _Warhammer_ from afar. The 70-ton mech staggered in its feet, then made another attempt to singe me, but his marksmanship was far from precise. I stayed away from its secondary weapons and kept showering it with cannon rounds, until its legs bowed and breached. The bulky torso crashed to the ground, and the pilot wisely pulled the ejection lever, seconds before it burst into flames.

Next, the _Champion_. It had nothing left to use, and it was basically hiding to stay in the game as long as it could. I would leave it alone if I could, but the clock would not stop if there were two mechs left. Unless, of course, we settled for a draw, but I would be a laughingstock if I settled a draw with the half-dead _Champion_. So I just stood in its path, raising all my guns at it, letting my presence be known. The pilot needed only two seconds to shut down and surrender.

I heard jeers and boo's as I brought my mech to the hangar, and I braced myself for another uproar, just like the lightweight championship. But the spectators were civilized. They stayed on their seats, shouting in frustration as I walked slowly out of the arena. I started to think that perhaps I was a little overreacting. I would stir a turmoil, yes, but I would not be harmed physically.

Man, was I wrong.

As soon as I parked, dozens of cops stormed the hangar and boxed my mech. They would not let the techs come close to my _Argus_, and let me got out of the cockpit myself. I would think that they were guarding me, but the way they treated the techs made me think the other direction. They came for me. But why? The only sin I committed was killing 'Mad' Maxwell, Silesia's hometown hero. Did the cops go after me because of this fact? If they did, then I was about to witness a different kind of extremity.

And the reality came quicker than I could anticipate. As soon as I touched the ground, the cops cocked their weapons and aimed them at me. "Mister Parker, you are under arrest for obstruction of fair play of Solaris game."

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**FIFTEEN**

_  
_**Note:** This chapter contains strong sexual reference. Reader's discretion is advised.

* * *

_**Solaris Gaming Commission,  
Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
May 10, 3064**_

Everything was a waste of time.

The Solaris Gaming Commission launched a televised investigation of the incident, blowing it up into a media extravaganza. Maxwell's stable charged Daniels and me with cheating and breaking laws. I did not feel I broke any law. I did not shut down when the match started, the decision that I would never regret. I did, however, shot Maxwell from the back when he was engaging Joey, but I did it before and nobody said anything. Maxwell's stable made a big deal about it, and it became the base of their accusation. These processes were broadcast nationally. But the tedious month of investigation was just a feigned pageantry. Maxwell never hid his association with La Cosa Nostra, and it was no secret that the number one crime syndicate owned more than half the officials at SGC. I knew the verdict of this investigation long before it wrapped up.

I always knew that La Cosa Nostra would react strongly to the death of 'Mad' Maxwell, just like the Grey Wolves after I killed Thunder Thorley. But instead of trying to harm me physically, they retaliated by ending my career as Solaris fighter. For an everyday Solaris fighter, arena fighting was their life. They assumed I was one of them, and they wanted to make me suffer by robbing me from what I did best.

Fortunately, they assumed wrong.

"I can't believe you can be this stupid," Kyle said to me the other day. "What were you thinking, taking on La Cosa Nostra by yourself? They have arms in almost every aspect of Solaris. You can't beat them, not like this. Now look what you've done to yourself!"

"I am doomed either way," I replied apathetically. "La Cosa Nostra want me out of the competition, so they put me with Maxwell in the opening game. Even if I won the game fair and square, they would find things to expel me. You said it yourself, they had many arms, and they could get me from every direction."

"So you go with Daniels to cheat death," Kyle snorted. "How quaint. Why didn't you let me help you?"

"And what exactly can you do?" I finished my drink. "I think their zeroing in on me was largely due to the fact that they associated me with House Davion. Your help would bury me deeper into this civil war mess. I greatly appreciate your concern, but I think you better leave me alone on this one. In fact, it is better if I do not receive assistance from House Davion in any kind."

"So that's how you see our help," Kyle scoffed. "An incentive for your support for the Davions."

"People do not see it otherwise."

"Since when do you care about people?" Kyle said coldly. "If you want to be neutral, that's fine with me. But if you think you can survive alone, you're sadly mistaken. Your Clan logic will not comprehend the intricate Solaris criminal minds. This is just the beginning, Parker. Without guidance, you'll sink deeper and deeper into Solaris mud pool, and when you realize you're drowning, everything is too late."

"No," I looked into his eyes. "This is the end. I know what will happen. This investigation will lead to 1 conclusion only: my expunction from Solaris circuit. So just let it happen. That way, I do not have to commit to Daniels anymore. I can visit a brain surgeon at Atreus as the doctor at Indrahar suggested. Perhaps he can restore my memory. I think I will be happier knowing who I once was, than being a Solaris poster board for FedCom Civil War."

"I want you to have your memory back, but not like this," Kyle let out a long sigh. "I want you retire from Solaris as a champion, a legend, a name that people sing with awe. I don't want you to leave Solaris banished like a loser. You won't forgive yourself."

"The truth is, Kyle," I paused briefly, looking at him in the earnest, "I do not care anymore."

Yes, it was the truth. Solaris promised me fame and wealth in exchange of rectitude. I never wanted those things. I felt that I already lost half of my integrity, and I did not want to lose the rest. This life, this world was not for me, and perhaps this incident could serve as my exit out of Solaris.

So I kept my composure as the SGC commissar took the stand to read the verdict. I shot a quick glance at Daniels beside me. He was nervous. His hands flexed and released, his lids fluttered, and sweat beaded in his forehead. Newsmen took pictures and videos of us before the commissar knocked the table, asking for attention. He put on the glasses and cleared his throat before reading the verdict.

"In the accusation of cheating and obstruction of fair play conducted by Daniels Stable," the SGC commissar read the decision, "the Solaris Gaming Commission found Daniels Stable guilty. Daniels Stable is thus scratched from all the circuits of Solaris City, excluding Class-One to Class-Three competitions outside the city. Furthermore, the Solaris Gaming Commission decided to revoke Parker's fighting license indefinitely."

"No! This is not fair!" Daniels stormed the jury. "The defendants wish to appeal!"

But I would smile if I could. I would shake the commissar's hand if I could. By revoking my license, the SGC broke my bind to Daniels. Of course I would leave Solaris like a loser, as Kyle mentioned to me. But my inner Clan did not bask on such glory. I had enough money to go to Atreus and fund my surgery, if I still had a bit of luck. If everything went well, perhaps I could make things right.

* * *

_**Kinebatu Travel, Montenegro,  
Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
May 19, 3066**_

"How could you be so boorish?"

I let Daniels launched his regiment of insults. He was mad, he was embarrassed, and he was desperate. I had been his primary source of income the past 2 years, and he did not want to lose me. He knew he would succumb to the same world prior our fateful meeting. The world full of failures, alcohol, and impossible dreams.

But come to think of it, he brought everything upon himself. He was the one that bribed the juries of the match. He was the one that tried to outsmart La Cosa Nostra. Had he not done what he had done, he would have been spared from Steiner's punishing arms, and could hold his head high. He would still lose me, but at least his stable would not be expelled from elite competitions.

He was killed by his own greed.

"Mister Daniels, the SGC revoked my license," I weathered the storm, speaking distinctly to make him understand the situation. "I cannot fight without license. Why do you insist on keeping me here if I cannot provide you with victories? I do not want to burden you."

"Give me some time to work things out," he said, a slight tremor was imminent in his voice. "I can get your license back. I still have friends in the SGC…"

"Mister Daniels, how many 'friends' have you bribed?" I said matter-of-factly. "How much money have you spent to make things the way it were? And how many people have claimed to be your friends these days? Face it, Mister Daniels: it will not work. Just let it go. We are fighting a battle we cannot win. Let me know if you succeed," I gave him a sour smile. "I will be at Atreus."

I was about to leave him to buy ticket off world when three strangers came into my presence. I had never seen them before. The woman in the middle was chic, somewhat alluring in her forties or fifties, wearing swanky dress with swaggering coat made from animal. Her red hair peeked below some kind of a hat, and her twinkling earrings drooped every time she moved her head. The other two were muscular men who fell quickly under the class of bodyguards.

"Mister Parker, I presume," her voice was sultry. "Pardon my rude intervention, but you are practically trying to proclaim your problem to the entire Kinebatu customers. I am aware of your trouble, and I believe I have the solution."

"Parker belongs to Daniels Stable," Daniels quickly interrupted. "You want something, you talk to me."

The woman shot a derogatory stare at Daniels, but she decided to yield to his demand. "Alright, Mr. Daniels, I'll talk to you, although I believe you can't be much of benefit for me. See, my husband holds a position as the secretary of Solaris Gaming Commission. I know that SGC decision was largely piggybacked by La Cosa Nostra. It's not your fault to get kicked out of elite circuit. It just shows that you don't have the right back up on the committee. Now I'm sure you heard this a lot, Mr. Daniels, but my position as the wife of SGC secretary gives me advantage no one can have. I can restore your status."

"Pardon me for my rude manner, milady," Daniels turned soft. "How can this simple man please you?"

"Ah, a man of pleasure, you are," she chortled. "But like I said, you have nothing I want. I want him."

_Me? _I did not understand. Why did she want my money? I did not have as much money as Daniels. But she did not say _I want his_. She said _I want him_ while pointing at me. What did she want from me? Did she want me to fight under her banner? Possibly. But Daniels would have had to resign me, and I doubted he would do it.

"I do not have many things to offer, Ma'am," I stated. "I do not understand what you want from me."

"Well, what a naïve gem you are," she sniggered. "Isn't Clanner supposed to be rude?"

My breath was caught in my throat. How was my real identity becoming a public knowledge? I never said I was one. I slipped my tongues sometimes, addressing people with Clan epithet like _freebirth_. But it happened mostly when I was in a rage, and nobody was supposed to take it seriously. Where did he get the information? Joey? Maxwell? Kyle Garret? Suddenly I felt vulnerable and exposed.

"You what?" Daniels blurted. "Are you a Clanner, Parker?"

"Look, I am not proud of this situation," I tried to get the heat off me. "But I am no longer a Clansman, nor do I feel like a Clansman. So please, regard me not as an ex-Clan mechwarrior, but as a Solaris mechwarrior. Whoever you heard this information from does not know the whole story."

"Then that's one thing I'll ask again in the future," the lady smiled. "Call me Fifi. Like I said, I have the power to restore your license, for one small compensation. Entertain me once; I'll reinstate your license. Entertain me twice; I'll put Daniels Stable back to where it belonged. Entertain me thrice; you'll fight in the semifinal. Blow me away, and you're the champion of heavy circuit. Remember, Parker, the higher your connection, the saver your position. And nobody is closer to the SGC than me."

This was the time when I supposed to ask 'what kind of entertainment', but I restrained. Fifi spoke in such an indirect metaphor that I was completely lost. _Entertain_ – that was a dubious word. I was not an entertainer, and the only kind of entertainment I could provide was arena fight. If she liked blood and explosion, then she could watch me fighting. But still, I had my license revoked. Besides, I felt that she meant more than arena entertainment. Before I did something I would regret, I had better take the safe path.

"I am flattered by your offer, Madam Fifi, but I will have to pass," I bowed slightly. "I have no experience in entertaining somebody aside from fighting in the arena, and I am afraid I will only be a disappointment for you. Mister Daniels can do it. He is certainly more experienced than me."

"You don't need experience, Parker," Fifi said. "Just accompany me through the night. Dinner, walk along the river, talk about yourself. I find out that most mechwarriors like to talk about themselves. So talk. Don't tell me you haven't done this before, because I will have to call you a liar."

"I am profoundly sorry, but I will not do it."

"Well, I'm not used to rejection," she huffed, clearly furious. "But who am I kidding? You're not even one of us! Alright then, if you wish to dwell at the bottom of the food chain, then I can only wish you good luck. May you find whatever you're looking for."

"Madam Fifi, wait!" Daniels yowled like a girl. "I believe I can get everything straight." He grabbed my arm and dragged me away from Fifi, obviously did not want her to hear our conversation. "Goddamit Parker, that's the best offer we can get! You get to escort a regal lady _and_ get your license back! Why in the name of Katrina Steiner did you refuse a bargain like this?"

"Bargain? What bargain?" I cringed. "She asked me to do something that I had never done before. There is no guarantee that the result will be satisfactory. I have not 'entertained' a woman the way she wanted me to 'entertain' her, and if she was not 'entertained', both of us would be in deeper trouble. I do not want to do this."

"Just regard her as a royal whore, Parker! And don't tell me you haven't had one!"

That felt like an arrow piercing my heart. The only woman I had been with – as long as I could remember – was Evee. How dare he desecrated Evee! My left hand involuntary crunched his neck, pinching the soft indent between his second and third neck bones. As he gurgled, my right arm flexed behind my ear, ready to bludgeon his face into gristle heap. His mouth gaped, his breath wheezed, and his eyes rolled toward the back of his head. I was milliseconds away from punishing him for what he said.

But then, I pitied him. He was consumed by greed. All his conduct focused on one thing and one thing only: money. No, killing him was not a solution. Leaving him without money was meaner than pounding his face. I released him, who quickly gasped for air. I turned around toward the ticket counter, fuming, "I am leaving for Atreus. Do not stop me."

"You promised," he croaked. "So you're just gonna go and forget what you said. Alright then, go! I hope you got your brain fixed, because now you're just a cheater and a liar! Damn _trashborn_! Just go back to Strana Mechty and shame your kind by breaking promises, you sonofabitch!"

I hated myself for staying here too long. The innocent promise to stay for another season had turned into complication that I expected the least. Had I ignored Daniels' offer to stay, none of this would have happened. It was a bad decision. Now I was stuck at Solaris because I put myself into a hole. Kyle was right. Without guidance, I was lost. And had Evee been here, I would not have been this miserable.

What now? Ask Kyle for assistance? No, it was better if I stayed away from the Davions.

I knew taking this offer was dangerous. But if Fifi spoke the truth, then I could go back to the arena within a week. I could finish my tenure for Daniels, thus fulfilling my promise within a year. Then I could finally leave for Atreus. If I passed it, I would be burdened by my promise for years until I could get my license back. Then I had to dedicate another year for Daniels. Perhaps it behooved me well if I took the offer.

"Fine, I will do it," I sighed in defeat. "Tell me what to do."

"Why don't we go to Valhalla Club to lube things up, hm?" she smiled.

* * *

_**Valhalla Club, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
May 19, 3066**_

"You're too quiet as a mechwarrior. Tell me, why did you leave the Clan?"

Valhalla Club was a first-rate club at Solaris City. The ambience was sultry, the food was excellent, and the customers were classy, although I caught some cynical stares from my neighbors once in a while. It was designed as a rendezvous haven of top-ranked warriors, where they could chat and brag about their arena accomplishments. A rather futile use, considering millions of c-bills that were spent on building the club.

Had I come alone, I would have been able to enjoy it more. Fifi's machine-gun questions took most of the enjoyment away. I did not understand why she wanted to know everything about my life. I could tell she was not interested in my life. Her eyes looked at someplace else instead of mine. But she could not stop talking, asking stupid questions that she could easily find the answer on the HPG network.

"Why are you doing this?" I could not stand her inquest anymore. "Why are you talking to me? You have a family. Why are you having dinner with me instead of them?"

"Wherever you learnt that concept of marriage, it's wrong," she leaned back, hinting a slight annoyance. "Marriage is nothing but an eminence. My dear husband's real wife is Solaris Games. He spends 20 hours a day building schedules. That leaves me his concubine, living in a world stained with gold and gem, but lacking the touch and the love of a man. So I find my own entertainment: the company of top-ranked mechwarriors. I built mutualism with my companies. I provide them arena security, they provide me entertainment."

"I may not understand the concept of marriage, but if it hurts you, why do you keep it?"

She broke into mirth. "Is that your reason to leave the Clan? Because it doesn't satisfy you?"

I shook my head. "You will not understand."

"When a man says 'it's too complicated', there's a woman involved. Do you have a girlfriend, Parker?"

Again, bittersweet memories of Evee stormed into my head. I started to despise this woman. She owned everything: a husband with stellar position in the society, bodyguards, money, fame; a great life that many people would kill to get it. But here she was, meddling with strangers, blaming her husband for her lack of flares. She inadvertently insulted me for not being able to get the only thing that mattered to me. No, I would not give her the honor to talk about Evee. I would not answer that question.

"If I had satisfied you, Ma'am, I wish to retire to my room," I asked for an excuse. "I have an early day."

"You barely entertain me," she replied. "The night is young. Why, afraid of your girlfriend?"

That was it. I could not tolerate her anymore. "You have been warned that I would only give you dissatisfaction. You chose to ignore me. So do not complain about my lack of entertainment! You can do whatever you wish with my license. I am leaving. Thank you for dinner."

I got up briskly and rushed to the door, but she went after me, tugging my shirt, then mashed her lips to mine. Her ferocity caught me off guard, and for a moment I could not do anything but to stand idle and weather everything she threw at me.

"I adore strong men," she whispered on my ear. "My husband is a sissy, and most Solaris mechwarriors are egomaniac slimes. Clanners are different. They're honorable and strong, and from what I heard, Clanners are – as many people put it eloquently – stallions."

Suddenly I saw what she had been referring to as 'entertainment'.

"_Neg_… no, I will not do it," I fluttered, feeling the rush of adrenaline surged into my vein.

"Well, my perception of Clanners as honorable warriors was clearly an overstatement," she stepped back, sporting disgust in her eyes. "You're just a bunch of wishy-washy critters cowering under the superiority of your battlemechs. You are nothing but strong men with weak minds. It disgusts me to just talk to you. However, Parker, I will still honor my commitment to accommodate you with your license. I will wait for you in my limousine. If you choose to be a small persona, then you're not worth my generosity."

I could motion for Trial of Grievance based on her insults alone. But a Clan trial against a middle-aged, delicate woman? She was smaller and thinner than Evee, and I could break her backbone with one hand only. I had no honor if I proceeded. But I could not let her get away with it. Who did she think she was, claiming that she was better than Clan mechwarriors? Was she not aware that I could summon a bitter punishment?

Yes, punishment. I would punish her for what she did to me.

I was tired and confused when I walked by the limousine and knocked on the window. My judgment was impaired with rage when she rolled the window down, smiling in victory. I never considered that my punishment _was_ the entertainment that she had been waiting for. All I wanted to do was to humiliate her, to render her helpless, to show her that a Clan mechwarrior was superior to Solaris _freebirth_.

Little did I know, this would be the biggest mistake I would ever do.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

**SIXTEEN**

**Note: **Dedicated to VirginaTech victims.

* * *

_**  
**_

_**Ishiyama Arena, Kobe,  
Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
August 9, 3064**_

The fact that I still roamed Solaris arena did not excite me at the very least.

I put my _Argus_ in reverse, wincing as the _Timber Wolf's _missiles stripped my front armor, already glowing in red. The shockwave pushed me forward against the harness, inches away from the gauges blinking in rage. The _Argus_ regained balance in a rough jerk, pushing me slamming against the command couch. Alarm raged in my ears, stuffing me with damage reports that bode to rupture my eardrums.

The _Timber Wolf,_ or _Mad Cat_ as Inner Sphere called it, was the epitome of Clan's superiority over the Inner Sphere. A fine blend of strength, speed, and dexterity, nothing had and nothing would ever match its grace on the battlefield. It was the greatest battlemech ever came out of mech factory, Clan or Inner Sphere, in any weight class. Albeit the pilot shied away from using its full potential, he managed to demolish a _Penetrator_, another fine-tuned machine, leaning entirely on the _Wolf's_ superiority over its Inner Sphere counterpart.

I could have passed by it. I could have opted to engage softer mechs, like the aging _Ostsol_ on my right. I could have a quick, easy kill since the _Ostsol_ would not stand a chance against the 15-year-younger _Argus_. I could have waited until the _Timber Wolf_ accumulated more damage. Yes, I could have done more reasonable things than going straight head-to-head with the 75-ton omnimech. The problem was: I did not want to.

I did not want to be here, today, inside Kobe's finest arena, fighting for a spot at heavyweight championship. I did not deserve it. Well, I did deserve it, but I let myself be controlled by parties that controlled the course of the games at Solaris. I compensated my mistakes with even bigger mistakes, and the last one wiped out the remaining self-esteem that I still store at the back of my head.

Passing through the _Timber Wolf's_ line of fire, I twisted right and slugged it with my RAC. The repeated thumps of the gatling gun made my ears numb. Pieces of ferro-fibrous armor arced in the air like a fountain, but the wide angle of contact increases the chance of impact. The _Timber Wolf_ rattled, but quickly shrugged it off. I switched off my RAC and fired my missiles. They struck dead center, jolting the big mech and shredding the right armor, weakened by the _Penetrator_ in a nasty duel five minutes ago.

The omnimech rocked back, then corrected its stance, flashing bolts of laser at my position. Two strands burnt a heap of armor on my right arm, turning a ton of it into dripping smelter. The vapor stabbed my nose. I turned to face it, just as the launchers flared, spitting missiles at my direction. Tongues of fire enveloped the canopy as the warheads struck my chest. The heat gauge spiked to one half maximum, and shards of metal with razor-sharp edges rained down over a wide area.

Why did La Cosa Nostra not swarm me the way Grey Wolves did? It would be easier if they came to me, all guns blazing. Instead they punished me by humiliating me by taking my license. I wondered if their plan was to watch me spiral down out of control, and when I could not go any lower, then they moved in to kill me. And I wondered what they thought about me getting back on business, fighting at one of Solaris most prestige arenas.

Should I have the last laugh? Perhaps. Escaping the death plan of the largest crime syndicate at Solaris was an accomplishment in its own realm. Perhaps I should not feel mortified about the way I rebounded from La Cosa Nostra's ploy. What did I do, exactly? I just slept with the wife of the secretary of Solaris Gaming Commission. I harmed nobody.

Except my dignity.

The _Timber Wolf's_ lasers singed me again, this time on my left torso. The sudden loss of armor tipped my _Argus_ ten degrees to its left leg. I let it swing, then returned fire with my medium lasers. The ruby flashes did not seem to bother the _Wolf's_ pilot. He brought his mech to a half loop into my blind spot, firing its lasers and machine guns at my rear armor. My armor gauge turned orange, signaling that I had less than half armor left.

I reversed my torso twist, now fully tilted to the left, catching the _Wolf_ from the other side. I maxed out the throttle and pumped my RAC. Again the murderous rounds drummed on its center torso, peeling the last bit of armor that covered its delicate circuitry. I doubled up my assault with my missiles, pushing the _Wolf_ on its heel. Sparks and shards blended into a ball of fire that razed the _Wolf's_ midst. Remarkably, this mech was still standing.

Once Evee taught me that the sexual bond of a man and a woman was twofold: as a means of preserving our species and a tool of affection. It was always the latter for me, because I looked down on natural birth. It grew into a deep bond between Evee and me, the bond that took my heart and soul to break.

But here at Solaris, people use sex as a catapult to sling their careers into places they would never reach if they fought conventionally. The prestige of affection had vanished, replaced by greed, ambition, and mere physical satisfaction. And the worst part of it: I welcomed myself into this sick society. I used it to get back to the heavy circuit.

The _Timber Wolf_ made a last-ditch effort to stay longer in the game. Fire belched from its launchers, and missiles slapped wide vicinity over which I was standing. Two of them caught my right leg, and I weathered the slight tremor, keeping the _Argus_ running in circle. The absence of proximity alarm informed me that the pilot rushed to keep me at bay. However, he did not learn from his mistake. He pumped up his entire laser arsenal, bringing it close to shut down temperature. But hampered by the smoke from its center torso, the lasers flew above my cockpit, harmlessly cored the wall behind me.

I fought this match halfheartedly. I did not have desire to win. And the _Timber Wolf_ had technological and 15-ton weight advantages over my _Argus_. Despite all those edges, the pilot could not win over me. I was hoping he was good enough to bury me in this arena, but if he could not use his advantages, perhaps he did not deserve to win at all. I kicked my mech to full speed while readying my weapons for my final blow.

As the crosshair burnt gold, I linked all weapons together and fired an alpha strike. Tracers of light illuminated the void between us, and the _Timber Wolf_ swallowed every single strike I threw at it. The armor caved in, and in a blinding light, the _Wolf_ blazed into an inferno, spitting metal parts and smoke.

As I watched the fire flickering to die, I wished it were the other way around. I went into this arena with nothing else to hold. The Clan in me disdained my conduct so much that I walked into the arena hoping to get killed. But I did not want to just die. I wanted to die like a warrior, in Clan's most exulted death: the blaze of glory. So I went straight toward the _Timber Wolf_, whose mediocrity happened to be a disappointment.

Thwarted, I looked for another formidable duelist. There was an ace in a _Catapult_ by the name of 'Mad Dog' Davis. I did not know if he was associated with La Cosa Nostra, but the big Steiner fist he carried at the side of the _Catapult_ told me that he might as well be. I readied my RAC, then hit him from behind, just as he finished up with the _Ostsol_.

"Well done, young charlatan," Davis hissed his sarcasm as he turned his mech around. "Keep taking cheap shots, and you'll be the champion eventually. We all know how you get back in the game."

"The pitch of your voice gave you away, Davis," I taunted him. "The _Ostsol_ was not a worthy enemy."

"Then are you?" he cackled.

"Find it out yourself," I accelerated. "If you dishonor me so, then come and get me."

"You ask for it," he lunged at me and fired his twin LRM 20 packs. A high-pitched warning scream squealed as armor-piercing drones raced toward my torso. I waited until I could see the color of the warheads, then weaved my torso. One third of the missiles flew above my head, another third skipped me by a meter on my left, and the last strafed my mech dead center. The ones that missed looped behind my back and crunched my rear armor. Shards of ferro-fibers scattered in the air, and the armor gauge turned red. However, the equally distributed blows kept my mech firmly on its feet.

It was a stupid blunder, even for a rookie. The _Catapult_ had enough power to skin my mech to the internal structure. Adding the good marksmanship of the pilot, it had become the nightmare of the match, the number one seed. But I was not looking for a victory. I was giving him a head start, and hopefully, he was competent enough to turn it into a kill.

As Davis waited for his launcher to reload, I paced myself and blasted a good rattle of my RAC. The depleted-uranium slugs chaffed the _Catapult_ on the bulbous torso, right under the cockpit. I added some missiles and lasers to the onslaught. I could see bubbling metal streaked on its torso, and the missiles wiped them off. The _Catapult_ lurched to the side, leaning heavily against its right leg, but quickly corrected its position by firing its jump jets toward the opposite direction.

Davis furthered his mech to the sky, peppering me with laser bolts while his launchers reloaded. I brought my mech running in circle, taking pot shots at Davis rear end while he desperately trying to steer his mech midair. His launcher was ready, and he spat his missiles, all 40 of them. Fortunately, his airborne position did not give him a hard lock, so all missiles were wasted on the ground.

To my recollection, I had never had a burning desire to die. Even when I was a bondsman at Wotan, the grittiest ordeal that I had ever endured, I still kept a glint of hope. I refused to give the Jade Falcons the satisfaction seeing me surrendering to their primacy. I had never felt so helpless, so useless that the best course for me was to explode alongside my mech. I did not understand why I changed into a pathetic whiner. Where did the steel determination that made me survive Wotan go?

Well, that might be it. I had lost my source of energy. I had something to fight on at Wotan, something worth more than my life. Now I had nothing. Nobody. Solaris had sucked every bit of my vigor and turned me into a zombie. Or was it really Solaris? Was I not the one that chose this world as my haven?

Davis found a way to my rear and rocked my mech with a well-placed salvo. The thin armor dripped to the ground, exposing the titanium skeleton. He fired me two more times, but I took measure. I torso-twisted to my left, and his lasers landed on my right arm. The bolts drilled four cavities, threatening my RAC into uselessness. Davis fired one more time, then hit his jets to gain space, setting up a firing range for his missiles.

I traced the arc Davis made in the air, and let loose everything I had. The missiles made beautiful curves in the air before expanding in fireballs as they smacked Davis' torso. The long traces of RAC painted the _Catapult_, shedding more armor on the front. My lasers weakened his structure, shaking him in the air before touching down. I kept my finger at the trigger, then a disturbing screech stopped my RAC altogether. Further tap on the trigger resulted only in more ear-splitting protest and an unbalanced whirl.

My RAC jammed.

It was a common problem in the Davion-made weapon. Eventually, Davis spotted this, and used it to his advantage. His missiles rained down on me, as if bringing punishment for my sin. I rotated left, using my left arm as my shield. The missiles took away everything, starting from the boxed launcher, working toward the left torso, ripping armor and myomer. The bulk of the left torso breached from the center, hanging loose on several strands of cable. The cockpit quaked, and for a moment I thought I was finished.

Funny world, Solaris was. I came here with a lot of hope. It offered none but money and fame, and it gave none but misery. All who came here had to give up a certain quality to have a shot at what it offered. In my case, it was dignity. I did accumulated money and fame, but honestly, they were not worth dignity. I wanted my dignity back. I wanted a life like Evee and I used to live, the few months after Arc Royal before Jerome Helmer changed everything.

Ah, Evee. I never knew how much I needed her… until now.

"Looks like you're running out of luck, Parker," Davis crackled on the comlink. "Maybe it's time you relinquish your reputation in public. You're overrated."

"People are entitled to their own opinion," I replied, trying to clear my RAC from the jam. "But it happens for a reason. There is also a reason why I have better odds than you, not withstanding what I did. Your bland career was only mediocre at best, and you have not beaten quality opponent. It was because of La Cosa Nostra that you reached this far. Perhaps you should look in the mirror before you accuse someone of being overrated."

My provocation hit his nerves. "Then let's prove who's the real goat here!"

With my left side gone and my primary weapon jammed, I thought that was it. My end was imminent. Davis still had all his weapons, and he charged me full speed, waiting for his missiles to reload. I knew I had several seconds, so I backpedaled while tapping my trigger. The giant gatling gun revolved intermittently, each turn produce a sickening screech, but after the fifth turn, it unexpectedly blasted in full force. The tracers of ballistics arced in the air, and lanced the _Catapult_ right in the center.

A small explosion consumed the _Catapult's_ cockpit, ripping the plexiglass canopy. The 65-ton mech continued its path, but the torso wiggled uncontrollably. It pitched toward the sky, then slumped to the ground, creating a large trench along the way before stopped moving completely.

I looked at the metal carcass, refusing to believe that I was that lucky. If it was a lucky shot, it happened at the worst possible time. Now there were only 2 mechs left in the arena, and the other one was a mutilated _Black Knight_. It had only one working large laser left. I supposed I could stand still and let it pound my mech with its lone laser, but I would not die in blaze of glory. Loosing to this mech was a disgrace, and I thought I did enough damage to my credentials. It was not happening today.

So I put my crosshair on its midst and let loose a long barrage of ballistics. The _Black Knight_ staggered, rocking on its heels, taking my best shots, then launched its answer. A sharp strike drilled my _Argus_ right in the center. The armor level ran critically low, and I knew I could not allow another shot like it. I paced my mech to limp to its left, away from its line of fire, while raining RAC rounds at the center. The _Black Knight_ did not take long to fall. My rounds bled the reactor. Three consecutive explosions chopped the mech apart, and it erupted in a mountain of fire and smoke.

As the mech blossomed into a full inferno, I mused: _is there any decent fighter left at Solaris?_ I held myself back in this match, yet I still came out the victor. Was this world so utterly corrupt that it did not matter whether you could fight in a mech or not, as long as you could find a sponsor?

I started to feel I made the wrong choice, and I could not wait to get out of Solaris.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**SEVENTEEN**

_**Thor's Shieldhall,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**November 2, 3064**_

I was on my fifth bottle when Emi smelled trouble.

"I can't help but notice that you spend more and more time making love with liquor, Parker," she stated, taking the empty bottles off the table. "Not that I mind, but is there something I can help you?"

"No," I replied. "You can not help more than bringing me another bottle."

"That is my job, and it won't help you in any way," she smiled pity.

I hated being pitied. I did not need her pity. "Then just do your job, Emi. I am fine with it."

"Look, my shift is up," she took two steps behind, smiling even after my rude comment. "Why don't we walk over the Solaris River to have a talk? It's nice this time around."

"Did you not hear me? I do not want your help!" I snapped. "Just bring me another bottle!"

"Maybe it's time you leave, Mister," the security guards boxed me, two more coming from the door. "We love it when you're around, but too much alcohol will make you a jerk. We don't want jerks around here. So we ask you kindly to leave, or we will use force."

_Leave? _How dare them asking me to leave? I was their prized customer! Most mechwarriors left Thor's Shieldhall as soon as they jumped into elite ranks. I still lingered on this place. I paid their wages! Asking me to leave meant asking me to stop paying them.

"He's okay, he's okay!" Emi quickly stepped in, ushering the guards to go back to their posts. "Nothing happens here. Parker, come with me!"

She grabbed my hand and towed it, coercing me to stand. This girl had become increasingly annoying. Why would everybody tell me what to do? But I still had a bit of common sense in my alcohol-stuffed head. Physical squabble with Emi would invite the security guards to pin me down and throw me out of the bar. I had too much alcohol in my blood to summon a good fight. Besides, I would hurt her, and drown me deeper into the abyss. So I let her yank me out of the bar.

"Now what is wrong with you?" she raved as soon as we were outside, the first time she ever did that. "You're young, you're successful, you have everything everybody wants. You're leading a wonderful life, but you celebrate it in a drinking binge. I don't understand you!"

"Wonderful?" I scoffed, turning my back at her. "You do not know most of the story. Leave me alone."

"Do you want to be banned from Thor's Shieldhall, Parker?" she raised her voice, jogging behind me to match my brusque steps. "Or does it not matter anymore, because you can always go to Valhalla Club?"

Her mentioning of Valhalla Club forced me to stop. I turned back, grabbing her arm, giving her a malicious stare that I hoped would scare her, "Just leave me alone before I do something that both of us will regret."

"I thought you were different," she whimpered, riding out the pain on her arm. "What happens, Parker?"

I knew I hurt her, and her decision to put her pain after mine finally eroded my obstinacy. I released her, taking some deep breaths to clear my mind. I sat on the hard pavement, burying my face on my palm. The combination of alcohol and hatred toward myself made my stomach spin.

"Look, everybody look up to you because of your modesty," Emi sat next to me. "You still hang out at Thor's Shieldhall even after you won the medium championship. You are a role model for the young. It's sad to see you're spiraling down into everyday's Solaran. I want to help you, but you have to let me in. What is it? What are you stressing about?"

I averted my eyes, looking away from her inquisitive stare. "Do you know what you want in life, Emi?"

"Is this supposed to hurt me so I leave you alone?" she stood briskly. "Because if it is, it works perfectly!"

I did not mean to. I just wanted to give her a chance, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was an insult to her. Why would it be an insult? Because she was a waitress? And why would I want to insult her, when all she gave me was thoughtfulness? The longer I stayed here, the farther away I felt from myself.

"This is why I do not want to talk," I fired my frustration. "I do not know me anymore. Everything that I did for other's good turned out to be venom. I am the one that is lost in this hellhole. I am the one that do not know what I want anymore. Do you think my life is wonderful, Emi? I wish we could swap places, so you can see how miserable it is to be in my position."

Her eyes widened with surprise. She looked at me so intently that she seemed to forget to blink. Her mouth dangled, and her torso expanded and shrunk in rhythmical fashion. I figured it was hard for her to digest, since she did not know my entire story.

"How could you say that?" her protest finally came in. "How couldn't you regard your life as wonderful? You have two championships, you have money, you have fame… what more could you want?"

Just as I thought. She was just a regular Solaran. There was only one thing that mattered for Solaran: Solaris championship. She would not be able to help me with this narrow view. Telling her how I really felt would be a complete waste of time. But I could not spurn her. She showed a great effort to care for me. I had to coin something to make her feel appreciated, without revealing too much of myself.

"I am not what you think I am," I hugged myself, arms on my chest. "I had a misfortune in 3058, and I lost my memory. I did not remember what I did before it happened. My intention to come to Solaris was to get my head fixed, so I can get my memory back. I never wanted to be a famed mechwarrior. All I ever want is my memory, so I can get on with my life without fear of my past catching up with me."

"Oh," she put her hand over her mouth. "I didn't know about it."

"Now you know why I do not want to stay here," I continued. "I have enough money to get my brain fixed, but I could not get out of here yet. I had given my word that I would stay for another season. I guess I become frustrated with the situation. I felt like I lost control of my life."

"The end of the season is around the corner," she smiled. "Come on, 4 months are not such a big wait. You can practice so you can win the championship. It'll take your mind away from your frustration. Before you know it, the season is over, and you can go wherever you want. I think that's the right solution for your problem. What do you think?"

I did not see any other possibility. "Of course."

"Feeling better now?"

"Much better," I fibbed between my teeth. "Thank you."

"Didn't I tell you that we waitresses are the next best psych?" she grinned. "Now I want you to behave next time you're at the bar. We'll hate it if we lose you. Thor's Shieldhall had luxuriated in an increase in income, thanks to you. But we have to maintain a bar of quality. If you think you own the place, then we have to let you go. I hope you understand this, Parker."

"I do," I said. "Thank you for your consideration."

I moved to shake her hand, but suddenly I felt a twinge in my back. An electrical crackle ensued, then I felt my muscles lost control. I turned into a heap of flesh, slumping into the ground, spasming and writhing uncontrollably. Then somebody routed my arms behind my back and put a black bag over my head. I could hear the muffled scream of Emi, and I tried my best to regain control of my muscles. But whatever hit me from the back, it worked like a PPC bolt on a mech. I was paralyzed, and I could not do anything when some men heaved me up and put me inside a vehicle.

Who were these people? What did they want from us? My only supposition was they were La Cosa Nostra. They reckoned their plan to watch me suffer had failed, so they tried their plan B: to harm me physically. But why did they take Emi? She had nothing to do with everything. I heard Emi's muffled sobs next to me. After a while, I regained control of my body, but my arms were secured behind my back. There was nothing much I could do in that situation.

I felt the vehicle moved, first smoothly over the paved road, then roughly over the terrain. It must have been at least two hours driving before it stopped. Several hands hauled me off the vehicle, and I felt fists clubbed me on the guts. My head spun as I doubled over, humbled by the pain. They forced me to kneel, and with a rough jerk they pulled the bag off my head.

I could not believe what I saw.

Kneeling 20 meters in front of me was John Daniels, his face was a bloody mess. One of his eyes was closed by a large swelling on his cheek, and his lips were doubled in size, cracking in several places. Next to him was Fifi, wrapped in ripped clothes. She showed no sign of physical abuse, but the chill air made her shiver. I could see fear in her eyes. There was a huge hole between us, and two bodies were already lying inside, riddled with holes. I remembered them as Fifi's bodyguards, and when I thought it was La Cosa Nostra's job, I spotted a lanky old man standing close to the hole, a gun on his right arm. His eyes were red with rage.

Fifi's husband.

I immediately knew that this was not a mafia job. It was simply a matter of jealousy. I figured the husband found out about our little fling, and took matters into his own hand. It was not hard to see that he had a lot more firepower than Fifi. I deserved this, so I expected the worst, which was death. But when the thugs forced Emi to kneel on my left, my brain spun. Emi did not deserve any of this. She could not pay for my mistake.

I had to take her out.

"Welcome to judgment day," the husband roared, pushing a fresh magazine into his pistol. "That's right, Parker. If you think you can get away with this, if you think you're a hot shot at Solaris that you can screw my wife behind my back, you're sadly mistaken. Every sin has a consequence, and the consequence of sin is death! And that applies to any of us, including my wife's bodyguards that failed to report this betrayal to me."

"Parker what did you do?" Emi looked at me, panic dominated her look. "Parker?"

"Shh," I calmed her down as much as I could. "I take all responsibility. I am the one you want. Let everybody else go."

"You're not the only one that I want," he hissed, playing with his gun. "It takes two to tango. My wife is as guilty as you are. And then Daniels is there too. I don't remember hearing him foiling this treachery. On the contrary, he expedited it. And for what? For the sake of my wife's pleasure? No! For his money!"

"Omar, please," Fifi whined, tears streaking on her cheeks.

"I swear to God, I had nothing to do with this," Daniels added in quivering voice. "It's all Parker's fault!"

"Shut up worm!" the so-called Omar slapped Daniels, spraying blood from his chafed lips. He then marched toward me. "I guarantee you that everybody will be held accountable for their sin. But since you're the only one that takes responsibility, I'll spare you. I'll kill you the last, who knows you'll change my mind before your time comes."

"What is her sin?" I quickly asked, referring to Emi. "She does not know anything about this affair."

"I don't know," Omar observed Emi for a while. "But I'll hang on to her."

"No!" I rose to my feet. "She is clean. Punish everybody that hurt you, but let her go."

"Shut up!" he slammed the butt of his gun on my head. "Don't take my generosity as a chance to be demanding! You are not open for negotiation! Get Daniels!"

His bodyguards heaved Daniels, who writhed and whined, begging for mercy. Omar stood at the opposite side of the hole, waiting for the bodyguards to take Daniels to the edge. I believed this was in the middle of nowhere, because Daniels' screams could have invited neighboring parties. But Omar was comfortable with, even enjoying, Daniels' cry for mercy. "Any last words, Daniels?"

"Please don't do this," he sobbed. "Please, I beg you…"

The gun cracked three times, and Daniels gasped as three bullets pierced his chest. He gurgled and squirmed against his restrained, but the bodyguards shoved him into the hole. He plummeted on top of the two dead bodyguards, jerking before lying in silence.

"Oh my God!" Emi cried. "Parker, please do something!"

I was lucky that the influence of alcohol had long gone, so I could think clearly. But I did not see many options. Omar was determined to kill everybody, including Emi. He was a mad man that was driven by jealousy, and I had to break through his wall to get to his heart. I had to use the correct weapon to beat him, or at least, to bail Emi out of this absurdity.

"It feels great to punish people that give you misery, and I cannot blame you," I tried my luck. "But what is the point of killing Emi? She does not have any connection everything. Killing her is only a waste of time, a waste of bullet, and a waste of energy, because all you feel afterward is hollow. You know this is true, so do not let it happen."

"I agree with you," Omar grinned. "But who says I want to kill her?"

That obviously did not work.

"Darling, I thought we had something beautiful," Omar moved to his wife. "I worked my ass off just to make you feel comfortable. But what did you do? You got yourself comfortable with another man. You ungrateful whore! You deserve nothing but death!"

A burst of panic sprouted in Fifi's eyes, asking me for help. But I could not do anything. If I had one chance to save somebody, I wanted to use it for Emi, not her. There was nothing I could do to prevent the bullets boring into her ribcage. Her head snapped back, and her body tensed, then slumped to the ground. The bodyguards senselessly dragged her and put her into the hole, along with her bodyguards and John Daniels.

"Get up," Omar motioned me to get to the hole. "It's your turn."

As I followed his direction, I thought how I could guarantee Emi's safety. This was my payment; I was not afraid to die. But how I could be sure if Omar did not harm Emi after he wasted me? She was a witness, and obviously Omar did not want any witness alive. Damn _freebirth_. I had to play him, but with what? Rectitude? He obviously did not have any. Wrath? He was already in it. Envy? I would only worsen things. Greed?

_Greed?_

"Any last words, Mr. Parker?" he said while I stood at the edge of the hole.

"Do you have a kid, Mr. Omar?" I replied.

"What?"

"Do you have a child?" I regurgitated. "I can make your child a star. A Solaris star."

There was a long pause, then he said cautiously, "Go on."

"Put your kid in the heavyweight final. Put me next to him. I will guard your kid throughout the entire final. In the end, I will let him win over me. Imagine how you can benefit from the betting craze. You can make a lot of money, and your kid will be put in the Hall of Fame."

"Hmm…" I heard Omar musing. "I know I will get something out by delaying your death, Parker."

"On one condition," I turned around, facing him. "Let Emi go."

"No," he smirked. "Do you think I'm stupid? You play a dangerous game here, and I need her as an assurance in case you have a different agenda. Nevertheless," he paused, looking at me with a glint of admiring hue. "I like your idea. I will see to it that your plan works the way you want it. I will let my boy to be a finalist. Then you make sure that he grabs the championship. And he better be the champion, Parker. Otherwise, you can visit Emi at the slums of Cathay."

"I want her out of here," I stressed every word. "That is non negotiable."

"Oh really?" Omar pushed his gun under my chin. "How about you dead, and she goes to Cathay slums? Be careful of your attitude, Parker. You have a great brain, and you can milk it, but your attitude can be the death of you."

"Alright," I conceded. "I will do it. But I want Emi out by the way your kid gets the championship. If you do not honor this agreement, I will make your life miserable."

"Deal," he nodded. "Remember: if any of this leaks to the world outside, I will hunt you down, and I will kill your entire family and friends. Your lineage will end at you. And don't think you'll lose me by escaping Solaris. My arms extended beyond worlds, and I have friends in almost all major planets in the Inner Sphere."

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

**EIGHTEEN**

_**Liao Jungle Arena, Cathay,  
Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
January 29, 3065**_

Omar's son entered the arena in a _Hellbringer_, painted in red-white-blue scheme that could be spotted from dozens of miles away. The 65-ton omnimech sported a couple of LBX-10, a couple of medium lasers, and a streak SRM 4 pack. It was obvious that he did not know anything about real combat. He was confined in his father's comfort, and to him mech fighting was nothing more than a game. He did not know that walking into Solaris arena was equal to signing a military contract.

And he had a malevolent attitude.

"Now you're to cover my rear, Parker," he said over the comlink, bleeding cockiness. "I expect nothing less than that. Screw me around and you can say goodbye to your waitress girlfriend."

"Do you want to survive this round?" I replied. "Stay close to me and do exactly what I say. There are not many aces left, but Kyle Garret is still around. He is in an _Axman-_3S. That variant sports powerful short-range weapons. Avoid him at all cost. He can rip your priceless toy in a second."

"I'm the one that's giving order, not you," he rebuked. "Shut your mouth and do what I tell you."

He entered the arena with 85-to-1 odd. Nobody knew him, and nobody had fought him in the regular season. His entrance into the final with just 4-3 professional records had stirred a firestorm in the media. But it worked very well with his father. Put a million c-bills on his son and he would come up with enough money to buy an entire stable. I could imagine that Omar would go all the way, knowing that I would do everything in my power to secure his finance.

I could only hope he was an honorable man.

"Move left!" I yelled as soon as the match started. The kid was placed right in front of an _Archer_. The missile mech had been locking on him since the introduction, and a blizzard of warheads charged the _Hellbringer_ seconds after the horn blared. The Artemis IV guiding system steered the missiles to attack the head. And the kid punched the throttle to get into range, oblivious of death that loomed over him.

"Move left!!" I roared, whipping my mech to full speed. Lucky for me, the kid turned left, exposing his right side at the inbound missiles. Half of the missiles slammed into his right shoulder, shredding armor and myomer into useless heap. I arrived to take the second half. I blocked the kid from the incoming warheads, sacrificing half a ton of armor on my right torso as his shield. Brilliant flash covered my canopy, jerking my _Argus_ backward, tumbling at the _Hellbringer_.

"What the hell are you doing!" the kid snorted. "Get off my mech! You're blocking my target!"

"That target has Artemis, and if I did not block you, you are already dead!" I shouted. "Get something else to fight. This _Archer_ is mine."

A burst of profanity flooded my comlink, but I could care less about what he said. The _Archer_ receded, waiting for its missiles to reload. I pushed my mech back up and fired my missiles to distract it. The _Archer's_ AMS took out the majority of my warheads, but two grazed its torso. The explosion was enough to disrupt its course, thus delaying its missile rain for one second.

My RAC was still far away from the _Archer_, so I opted to run behind the bush. When the missiles leapt into the air, I hid my mech under the thicket. The missiles slammed into the vegetation, creating major fire that wiped out exotic plants in the vicinity. But I was spared. Only two missiles reached me, and my armor handled them very well.

I paced my mech forward, knowing that I only had 5 seconds before the next wave came in. Getting into 500-meter range, I fired a long burst of RAC, accompanied by a set of missiles. Shards of metal raced into the air, and the 70-ton mech staggered, but quickly shrugged off the attack. Its launchers turned squarely toward me.

I maneuvered to the left when out of nowhere a Gauss slug pounded me from my left flank. I felt my mech tipped to the right, and if I were not restrained to the command couch, I would have been flying off the seat. The impact jarred the cockpit, and half of the gauges went static. I grasped the joystick as hard as I could, bringing my mech back to its feet, twisting left to face the sneaky attacker.

A Liao's _Jinggau_ burst from behind a bush and fired everything it had at my mech. Nasty mech, it was. At 65-ton, 85-kph, and 150-meter jump capability, Capellan engineers were still able to put in a Gauss rifle and a quadruple lasers. It was a formidable foe, even for an assault.

Two laser burst vaporized a layer of armor on my left leg, and my armor gauge turned yellow. Before I could answer, missiles from the _Archer_ pushed my mech forward, chipping armor on the back halfway through the internal structure. I barely regained my balance when the second Gauss round slugged me, this time at the center. The momentum brought my mech teetering behind. Two laser strikes singed my right torso, and the armor gauges turned dangerously red.

I could use a bit of help, but where was the kid? I did not have time to look for him. Perhaps his cockiness brought him to fight another ace. Screw him. I could not do anything if I could not get out of this crossfire. But I did not have many options. The _Jinggau_ was better than my _Argus_ in almost every aspect. But I could use the _Archer_ as my shield. It was highly unlikely that they worked together. It was just a coincidence that they fought a common enemy.

Fortunately for me, the _Archer_ was a sloth.

Swaying from side to side, I broke into a sprint, dodging dozens of laser blasts from both mechs. I engaged a loop with the _Archer_ as the center. Lazy as it could be, the _Archer_ just pivoted and twisted to keep me on its crosshair. But doing so, it exposed its delicate rear at the _Jinggau._ The Liao mech did not waste the opportunity. It sank its next Gauss slug at the _Archer's_ back. The humanoid figure lurched forward, almost toppled, and the subsequent laser attack gushed smoke from the crack.

The _Archer_ turned back, and a second of locking guaranteed a direct hit. The missiles raced out of the tubes like a flurry, peppering the right side of the _Jinggau_ with razor-sharp accuracy. The Liao careened, but quickly compensated by flexing its left leg. But the _Archer_ was not about to stop. Two laser bolts stabbed the _Jinggau_ on the right torso, deepening the scars the missiles instigated a second ago.

That _Jinggau_ posed more threat than the aging _Archer_, so I triggered my RAC and my missiles, sending munitions at the exact spot the _Archer_ harassed. Molten splinters splattered on the _Archer's_ torso as my RAC munitions gouged the armor on the right torso, carving two deep holes that almost reached the internal structure. The _Jinggau_ hesitantly turned its torso toward me, covering up its wound from subsequent attack. It blasted its jet, and one second later, fired its Gauss rifle.

I pushed my joystick down, bringing my _Argus_ into a half crouch. The 125-kilogram nickel-ferrous ball sped above my head, leaving only a disturbance in the air as it rammed a tree behind me. I squeezed my trigger, and my RAC barked, spitting dozens of rounds. Only one third of them connected to the _Jinggau_, but they were enough to mangle the armor on the hull, pulling off cracks and cavities.

As the _Jinggau_ landed, I slipped behind the Archer again, putting the 70-ton relic right between the Jinggau and me. The _Archer_ waited for a hard lock, then fired its missiles in full force. The _Jinggau_ wobbled, taking several steps behind as the missiles chastised the torso. Sparks started to spray from its right torso. I added the insult by a long burst of RAC, followed by a set of missiles. The last rounds hit the Gauss feeding mechanism, and the right torso blossomed into an orange fireball.

Stripped from the Gauss rifle, the Jinggau firepower was significantly reduced. I lined up with the cracks on the _Archer's_ back, the handiwork of the _Jinggau_, and unleashed my entire arsenal at them. The large mech staggered forward by the intensity of the attack. The thin armor caved in, exposing the reactor casing. I fired my RAC, and tongues of fire licked from the _Archer's_ depth. The _Archer_ dropped to one knee, and looking at the damage, I doubted it would get up anytime soon.

That left me with the _Jinggau_.

Even without the Gauss Rifle, the _Jinggau_ was still formidable. I could not count out the quadruple laser and its superior speed. But at least, its right side was damaged. I rotated to the left, trying to catch its bad side. The _Jinggau_ realized what I was doing, and it mimicked my move. We were locked in a circle of death, bartering lasers and ballistics at every turn.

The Liao pilot realized that he could not win against me with lasers only, so he broke off engagement and tried to avoid me. I did not want to let it go. I lined up with its butt, then shoved a long drive of ballistics. The 65-ton machine arced forward, but kept running forward, maintaining its balance with several quick bursts of jets.

I watched my ammunition. I used up 65 percent of my RAC, so I switched to my missiles. The warheads leapt and made a beautiful arc on the air before slamming at the _Jinggau's_ back. The blasts damaged the power line. Its legs trembled, and the Liao turned back to face me in a desperate move. I halted my mech just outside the medium laser's range then pumped up my RAC. The bullets shattered the armor just below the cockpit, weakened by the _Archer_. Splinters geysered from the explosion that mutilated the _Jinggau_ from inside.

As the Liao mech fell, I observed the arena. There were about one-third of mechs left, the _Hellbringer_ included. I was just about to draw a relieved breath when I realized what that stupid kid was fighting. He was bringing his mech closer and closer to an _Axman_, pounding the hatchet-wielding mech with his inaccurate marksmanship. The _Axman_ dodged most of the attack, and it lured the _Hellbringer_ into its trap, setting up the kill using its scattershot cannon and hatchet.

Kyle Garret.

What an idiot. Why in his right mind did he assume he was good enough to challenge Kyle Garret? Now he put me on a crossroad, and for a moment I did not know what to do. I could not just barge in and fight Kyle. But if the kid did not survive, Emi would pay for my sin. I did not have time to explain anything to Kyle. I figured that Kyle was a fine warrior. He could take care of himself. I would side with Emi – and the kid – on this one.

At the first opportunity, I launched my missiles, striking Kyle from long range. They were not enough to hurt him, but they robbed his concentration. As Kyle turned toward me, I let loose a long barrage of RAC munitions. Half of them slammed into Kyle's right torso. I could imagine Kyle's face when he knew that it was I that had been harassing him from long range.

"Parker?" he croaked. "Parker, what are you doing?"

"I am sorry," I muttered. "I do not have a choice."

"What are you talking about?"

"Leave the kid alone. He is not a worthy opponent. Fight me."

"Why are you babysitting a rookie? I don't want to fight you just yet!"

"Fine. I will fight you."

"What? Have you lost your mind, you damn Clanner?"

I did not respond. My mind screamed, asking me to stop this insanity. But with every losing minute, Emi came closer and closer to harm. Why did this keep happening? Why did I continuously harm people that were close to me? I knew this would damage my relationship with Davions forever, but once again, I could not let Emi suffer for my mistakes. I wished there were another way.

"I am sorry," I emphasized each word with utmost remorse, just before I sent another set of missiles. "I will explain later. Just forget the kid and fight me."

The missiles peppered Kyle's torso, but the Davion fired up his jets, bringing his 65-ton machine flying in the air, straight to my direction. It was only natural that he would bring his mech close as soon as possible. His LBX-20 would deal considerable damage, and while the enemy was still groggy, he would finish up with his hatchet. It was a simple but deadly 2-pronged blow, and one of the few advantages over Clan's independence on physical attack. He knew it. He knew I would be in trouble fighting at close range.

My _Argus_ would not survive such an attack.

Just as Kyle was about to land, I hit my alpha strike button aimed at his right leg. The blasts stole the balance out of his leg, and the _Axman_ swayed comically, spreading its arms wide to maintain balance. I made a tight turn to the right, and rammed my mech at the swaying _Axman_. The crash ripped my right torso open, exposing delicate structure to the cold air. But Kyle did not expect that I would use physical attack that early. He lost control of his mech, and the lanky _Axman_ toppled like a timber.

"What's gotten into you?" I heard Kyle protested from inside his mech. "Who's that _Loki_ pilot?"

"No one important," I pounded Kyle's leg while he was still on the ground. "But somebody's life depends on this match. I have to do this."

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Kyle struggled to get up. "Stop this, or I will do you harm."

"I cannot," I replied. "Do the best you can, Kyle. I am not holding myself back."

Suddenly Kyle blasted his jets, and turning half a circle in the air, he gunned his LBX-20. The splintered munitions hammered my exposed internal structure, and my right torso erupted, dislodging my RAC. Acrid burning myomer seeped into the cockpit, and the explosion shoved my mech to the left. The legs strained to hold the sudden loss of mass, and I had to push the joystick to the extreme to keep my mech from tumbling. Fire raged on my torso.

"You can stop this madness and tell me what's going on, or I'll squash you to the ground," Kyle spoke with distaste that I had never heard before. "I respect you as a friend, but if you don't do the same to me, I will regard you as my enemy. We are not playing games, Parker."

"Even if I tell you, there is nothing you can do," I rebuked. "So let us just finish this fight."

"As you wish, then," Kyle soared again, this time straight at me. I paced my mech to the side, losing Kyle's line of fire, then decked his leg with my missiles. It was un-Clan-like, deliberately aiming my shots at the leg, but I did not want to kill Kyle. I just wanted to disable him, enough to get him out of the competition. The shot scarred the armor of the right leg. Kyle landed and turned around, but I buried two laser blasts at his hip. Molten armor trickled down his leg.

Just then, the _Hellbringer_ joined the fray, firing its entire arsenal at the _Axman_. The lousy shots missed miserably, but two of the streak missiles slammed into Kyle's rear torso. Kyle turned around and traced his attacker, but I hit him on the right leg. His armor gauge turned orange. Kyle ignored my assault and fired his LBX-20 at the _Hellbringer_. The shot landed on the left torso, wrecking the missile launcher. The _Hellbringer_ drooped back in swaying gait. Kyle charged it, readying his hatchet for a harsh blow.

"Shoot his leg!" I yelled, which the kid complied. The twin LBX-10 roared, and Kyle's right leg blew up into smithereens. A good mechwarrior that he was, he fired his jets and leapt, aiming for the _Hellbringer's_ cockpit. I quickly fired my missiles, peppering his back, rendering him flying out of focus. He landed on one leg, then quickly toppled to the side.

"I am sorry," I said to Kyle through private frequency. "I owe you an explanation."

"Don't bother," he huffed. "Next time I see you, I will kill you."

I threw a quick scan throughout the arena, and there were only 2 mechs left standing. The _Hellbringer_ cockily came to my presence and established private connection, "Your service is no longer needed. Now you can yield and submit yourself to my father. He will release the waitress shortly after I got my trophy."

This kid did not understand what he was asking. Doing so would incite a worldwide scandal. His father would be thrown into convoluted investigation by the Steiner, the one that I went through several months back. No, I had to make it realistic. Besides, I would never yield to a brat. Ever.

Instead, I fired my missiles at him.

"Hey! Are you deaf?" he bemoaned as my missiles struck his chest. "Exit your mech and surrender!"

"The match is progressing, and the laws are still in effect," I explained, but I doubted he would ever take it seriously. "Yielding will stir a scandal which hurts your father."

"He can take care of himself," he scorned. "Exit and surrender, or die heathen!"

"I take my chances," I replied, firing my lasers at his legs. "Fight me."

The _Hellbringer_ hoisted both arms and fired off its LBX-10's. I held my mech still. The clustered rounds hit me like a tsunami. Heat bled into the cockpit as three internal explosions gnawed my _Argus_. I pulled the ejection lever, seconds before my mech turned into an inferno.

I glided down, and a _tractor_ was waiting for me. It brought me back to the hangar, and Emi was there, waiting for me with tears in her eyes. Finally, I could heave a sigh of relief. As soon as I dislodged the _tractor_, she rammed herself into my embrace, crying her heart out. I held her, and from the corner of my eyes I spotted Kyle Garret stealing a glance at me, before he hoped onto a truck containing what was left of his _Axman_. It might be the last time I would ever see him.

"Are you alright?" I asked Emi when she seemed to calm down.

"Parker, I'm so scared," Emi said after a long while. "What are we going to do?"

"I am going to Atreus," I stated, "and you are coming with me."

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

**NINETEEN**

_**Solaris Starport, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
February 21, 3065**_

The Union dropship was two hours away from liftoff, but I already glanced at my clock for the dozenth time. Anything could happen in two hours, and I did not want anything to happen. I wanted everything to go smoothly, so I could get out of here. The heavyweight circuit stamped a strong impression in my mind that I did not want to do anything with Solaris in the near future.

"Nervous?" Emi said, breaking the silence. "Looking at your watch won't add a minute to it."

I answered her with a smile. Emi should never be a part of this mess. She should have been serving beers at Thor's Shieldhall, oblivious to anything but arena fighting. Quitting her long-time job for an uncertain future was very bold, yet very precarious. She did not know anybody at Atreus, and she did not have any skill that Atreus could benefit from. She was gambling with her future.

But it was her only choice. After the last encounter with Solaris underground crime, her life would never be the same. Solaris was not her home anymore, and this city would always present her with the recollection of greed, envy, and death; things that she had never been exposed to before she met me. I had to make it up to her. How, I did not know precisely. There should be something at Atreus that I could help her with.

"I am sorry that you have to leave Solaris," I murmured. "I should never drag you into my life."

"Yeah, me too," she replied in a long sigh. "But things happen for reasons. Maybe it's time for me to stop wearing the apron. It feels bleak now, but it may be a first step to become something that I really want. Look, I crave for a little snack. Care to join me to the shop?"

I shook my head. "I will wait here."

She grabbed her purse and left me. I looked at my watch, and just like she said, it did not go any faster. I grabbed some magazines from a small table about 5 meters away. I thought reading would take my mind away for a while. But when I came back to my seat, three men were waiting. One of them was Omar.

"Leaving somewhere?" he grinned, spitting his sarcasm.

"You had your money, and your son is up there with the greats of Solaris," I spoke in disdain. "You have proven yourself to be an honorable man by releasing Emi unharmed. I believe we do not have any other business. That said, it is none of your concern where I am going."

"Why leaving so soon?" Omar widened his smile, showing off his well-kempt teeth. "You've been a great surprise to the world of Solaris for the past 3 years. And I see that your aptitude in politics is only preceded by your expertise behind a battlemech console. Surely you don't think that there's nothing more you can do at Solaris, do you? Opportunities will present itself to you."

"Mister Omar, do understand this," I put myself right in front of his face. "I am _never_ an ornament of politics. I did it because you made me. I take no pride in it. You will be greatly disappointed if you push this assumption of yours to meet your personal deeds."

"Always an honorable warrior, aren't you… Darien Kerensky?"

If I expected to hear that name, I expected it from the likes of Kyle Garret or Captain Morton. I never expected that Omar would find out my real name. True, his wife might have told him who I was, but not my name. Having access to my name meant he had longer arms that I originally suspected.

"The medics at Indrahar," I growled. "You talked to them, did you not?"

"Doesn't matter whom I talked to," he smiled in victory, knowing that he had grabbed my attention. "It's just a simple footnote that I am a meticulous man. I can find who you really are. I know where you're going. And by Jerome Blake, I can find that cute little waitress of yours no matter where you hide her in the universe."

Bringing Emi before negotiation showed me that he had something big in his mind, and he had no intention to lose. He knew how I feel about being blackmailed, and he freely used it. I came close to grab his neck and twist it, but it would not solve the problem. He might have agents that had Emi already. Dear Kerensky, would this ever stop? "What do you want?"

"The money I get from the heavy circuit was enough to start a new stable," Omar explained. "I hired the best techs around, best mechs available, and best weapons around. What I don't have is best pilot. I have some rookies that won't stay long in the game. I want you to fight under Omar's Wildcats stable."

"You already have a champion in heavy circuit," I mocked him. "You do not need me."

"I like your sense of humor, Parker, but this is not a time for a joke," Omar grimaced. "This is not something that you can consider. The new season is looming, and I expect you to start taking control of my new mechs within 2 weeks. I have some Clan mechs that you can fit yourself into. I am trying to make you as comfortable as possible. All you have to do is fight. After all, it's what you're made for, am I right?"

It looked like I would never get to Atreus. I could sense from his tone that he was deadly serious about what he said. And I figured that he had armed himself with the knowledge about me. I could not pull off the same trick twice. I had to find another way to outsmart this ruthless man. But first, I had to eject Emi out of this mess.

"I have two conditions," I said. "First, Emi is out of Solaris. Now."

"Alright," he agreed. "I'll let her go for now. I will not harm her in any way, considering she can keep her mouth shut. I believe she'll behave. But show me a glint of betrayal, and I will find her. You know how I feel about treachery, don't you Parker?"

"I have no doubt that you will do as you say," I replied. "Second: if you know so much about me, then you should find out that I once had a personal mech. It was a heavily modified _Executioner_, or _Gladiator_ in your tongue, called the _Red Baron_. I will only fight for you in this mech."

Omar's pupils dilated as my unexpected demand struck him like a barb. Evidently he lacked the knowledge about this fact, and it was clear that he did not like to be backed on a corner. A shot of fury flamed in his eyes, but he decided to let it play. "And where do I find this… _Red Baron_?"

"Last time: Wotan, 3061. As for now, I do not know. But you are the meticulous one, are you not?"

"Do you think you can play games with me?" he unleashed his pent-up fury. "I have been patient to deal with your insolence, Parker, but you are pushing your luck! Maybe you like it when I show you what I'm capable of. That'll teach you a lesson to not mess around with a wrong guy!"

But of course, I was playing a game. My _Gladiator_ was smashed to bits by Jerome Helmer. I left it at Wotan, and if the Jade Falcon did not acquire it, it would be almost impossible for Omar to claim it. He could always buy a refurbished _Gladiator_ on the market and claimed it as my _Red Baron_. But _Gladiator_ was such an expensive mech. Combining with maintenance and modification cost, it would suck him dry. I did not know how persistent Omar was, but if he realized he would never get it, hopefully he would give up on me and let me go.

"Do you expect me to fight my heart for you when you do nothing as comfortable?" I maintained my calm but firm attitude. "You cannot expect a long-term mutualism with minimal effort. Perhaps you need to learn what business really means."

"Alright, fine!" he finally conceded. "I will find this mech of yours, but you have to stay at my stable and train other pilots how to do maneuvers like yours. Whenever I bring in your mech, you will lead my Wildcats to the arenas and win every competition they are scheduled in. And remember," he moved closer to me. "I am the meticulous one. I can find anything about you, including where you stuff Emi. You don't want to see her back at Solaris, do you?"

"No, Mr. Omar, I do not," I stepped back.

"Good!" he forged a smile. "Two weeks, Parker."

He turned around and left. I wished Emi did not have to witness that, but we had been talking for quite some time. She was there, although a bit farther, but she saw everything. By the look in her eyes, I knew she understood what it meant to us. "We are not going to Atreus, are we?"

"No," I shook my head. "Forget Atreus. Here is what I need you to do. Go to Gemini Stable and find Kyle Garret. Tell him everything you saw, and tell him Omar is after you so you cannot stick around. Ask him to get you to Tecumseh in Davion warship. Not regular jumpship, but Davion warship. Do not settle for less. If you do not get just one of these demands, come back and see me. I will be here for a long time."

"But…"

"I value our friendship, Emi, and I am sorry for everything I did."

"Will we ever meet again?"

"Who knows?" I smiled. "Goodbye, Emi."

"Goodbye," she gave me a hug. "You're the best customer I've ever had."

I felt bad sending her to Kyle without talking to him first. I figured he was still mad at me for what I did on the heavy circuit. But this was the time when I had to ask for reinforcement, and I knew he would understand. He was just a rare kind of guy that Clans regarded with honor.

* * *

_**Thor's Shieldhall, Solaris VII,  
Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
March 2, 3065**_

I was enjoying my quiet time in my favorite corner when Kyle visited me.

"It's not the same without Emi is it?" he took a seat in front of me.

"How is she?" I had to ask.

"Natalie's taking care of her. Not even Kurita's O5P can find her, if that's what you're concern about."  
(**Note:** O5P - Order of Five Pillars, Kurita's Intelligence Agency)

"Thank you," I flashed a smile of gratitude.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he complaint. "The Davions are behind your back. Morton would like to help you with a pest like Omar. Do you think you're conversant enough with Solaris gimmicks that you dared yourself to take on these thugs by yourself? And now you're committed yourself to Omar, a crook that thinks he owns the entire Solaris. What the hell happened to you, Parker?"

"I do not know," I stared at the ceiling. "I thought I did, but I am obviously clueless."

I tried to chug the remaining beer, but Kyle snatched it from my hand. "This is not healthy."

"Is it your hobby to pry into other's life?" I fumed. "Why can you not mind your own business? Or is it your problem that you do not have a problem of your own, so you have to make other's yours?"

"What is your problem?" Kyle snarled.

"You!" I roared. I did not care about other customers anymore. I did not know why Kyle ticked me off so much by his kindly gesture. I just had to steam up at him. "Do you think that because I ask your help you have a right to tell me what to do? Do you think your relationship with Evee gives you the audacity to treat me like a kid? Do you think you own me? I have been patient long enough, Kyle Garret, to endure your harassment. This ends today. Just leave me alone!"

"Gentlemen, I must ask you to leave," suddenly security guards stormed our table.

It was not even the same Thor's Shieldhall that welcomed me the first time I set my feet on Solaris. With a brusque move I slammed some c-bills on the table, then scrambled out of the door. My lungs were full of rage, and I felt the urge to explode. I rushed through the busy street, blasting through the crowd, until I arrived at the riverbank. I felt as if I could swallow the entire river in one gulp.

I did not know what was happening anymore. I had turned into a different person, and I did not want it to happen but I was powerless to stop it. I felt it sucking me into its abyss, but I could only watch myself fall into it. I thought going out of Solaris was the best thing to do, but Solaris did not want to let me go. It gripped me with its iron claw so hard I could not breath.

"You miss her, don't you?"

Kyle's comment pierced my chest. All the pent up rage puffed out in an instance, replaced by a crisp emptiness. Was it possible that everything happened as my vain attempt to fill this emptiness? The alcohol binge? The unending fight in the arena? The constant irritation at Kyle Garret? I wished I could step out of myself and inspected myself from afar, because right now I could not think.

"Every day, every hour, every minute," I sat on the pavement on the riverside. "Some days more than others. But we were done. She made it clear that I was not in her life anymore."

"Is that so?" Kyle sat right next to me. "I remembered when she revealed your existence for the first time. She said _I never knew if I could fall for a Clanner. Hell, I could easily marry a prince and live off unending wealth and joy. But Parker is different. I don't know if this is the real him or just the amalgam of his old self and his interpretation of Inner Sphere's lifestyle. He's everything I see in a soul mate._"

_Soul mate_. She called me a soul mate. Not coffin mate, not bedmate, but a soul mate.

"But I had destroyed every chance to get back to her, so much that the only things left are dreams. I had sex for career. I fixed a match to get out of trouble. All I wanted was one shot at Atreus, to know everything that I miss about myself. But the longer I am here, the more I desecrate myself."

"I don't know," Kyle sighed. "I can't speak for her. It's something you need to straighten up with her. But you know what she sees in you. She loves you for what you are. If you go to Atreus, you'll go back to your archetypal Clan personality, or worse, you'll turn into somebody else. You'll recollect things that she values the least, but you'll lose the only thing she treasures the most – _yourself_."

I never looked at it that way. How could I be so blind? I remembered, back in Engadine, Megi said that Spheroids did not always use their brain to make a judgment. Sometimes they thought with their hearts. I never understood how they could do it, but to win Evee back, I had to understand it. Otherwise, we would always be strangers, no matter how much we loved each other.

"So what do you think I should do?" I mused.

"It's up to you. Now that Emi was out of the picture, you can just bail out to New St. Andrews. Just be honest to her. However, if you want to get it even with Omar, we can make use of your situation."

"What do you want?" I asked, curious about any possibility to square things with Omar.

"Steiners," Kyle responded. "Their domination in the assault circuit has been going on for generations. Breaking their domination at Solaris will blow the morale of Steiner troops everywhere in the Inner Sphere. We need it to make our final push to oust Katherine out of New Avalon."

"Of course, what else should I expect?" I asked rhetorically. "You and your _stravag_ civil war."

"What can I say, Parker? I'm a Davion," Kyle smiled. "Anyway, the Steiners are getting jittery with Omar's Wildcats stable. They will see Omar as a threat to their propaganda, and they will ask you to join La Cosa Nostra to support the Steiner. Play them along. Report to me whatever move they make, but never yield to their demand. Let La Cosa Nostra destroy Omar's Wildcat. Fight fire with fire. Then we'll hit them when they expect the least. Do you think it's plausible?"

I liked the idea of being the instrument of Omar's downfall. Besides, I missed Evee, but I could not go down to New St. Andrews in this condition. I lost a considerable amount of self-esteem. I had to rebuild myself, and perhaps helping the Davion winning the civil war would boost my confidence. I did not know much about the civil war, but I thought Evee wanted Kyle to be on the winning side, no matter what side it was. At least I could give her that much.

"There is one problem," I stated. "I told Omar that I would only fight for him if he provides me my old mech that I brought from Arc Royal. But I did it just to exhaust him. The mech was lost at Wotan. I was hoping that Omar would get tired looking for the mech that he would eventually let me go."

"See, Parker, you're spending so much energy on details that you're missing the big picture," Kyle sank his elbow into my ribcage. "I have 2 Jade Falcon bondsmen serving the Shooting Stars. How hard do you think it is to make use of them to get your mech back?"

"How are you going to give it to Omar without him noticing?"

"Leave it to me," Kyle stood. "If you agree to do it, you'll be back in the opening game in your old mech."

If I agreed to it, I knew I had to stay for another season. I had to face the same politics that shredded my dignity to pieces. But this time, I needed it. I needed to feel proud about myself, to realize that I had not lost my rectitude. I needed it before I could meet Evee face to face.

"Then you have my allegiance," I offered Kyle a handshake.

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

**TWENTY**

_**Boreal Reach Arena, Black Hills,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**_**_April 30, 3065_**

My lips curled into a smile as the sight of the red _Gladiator_ monopolized the otherwise dull-coated mechbay. Four years ago I left it unrecognizable, stripped to the bone by Helmer's fire. None of them was present. Fully restored and fully loaded, my mech had come back from the grave, carrying with it the arrogant smile that was always its trademark.

I did not know how Kyle got it back. I did not know how he handed it to Omar without giving the impression that the Davion was trying to help me. But like Kyle said, it was not important. I had a chance to redeem myself by helping the Davion winning the civil war, and I would use it to regain my confidence.

"Happy now?" Omar stood beside me. "Now that I gave you what you want, it is your turn to give me what I want. This opening game is your inauguration. If you succeed, you'll move to bigger games, with bigger payload and bigger fame. Loose, and you'll succumb to oblivion. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear," I replied.

"Good! Then off you go and win the game."

The platform rose, taking me to the cockpit. Nothing changed. I claimed my place in the command couch, powering up the metal giant. The whirring sound of reactor startup felt like music to me. I pushed the joystick gently, and the mech responded smoothly, taking me to the arena.

Seven assault mechs had waited inside, the biggest being a _Grand Titan_. The hundred-ton monster was billed as the best Inner Sphere mech ever built, but it never dethroned _Atlas_ as the 'sovereign of the battlefield', contrary to the manufacturer's high expectation. Other ranged from the versatile _Awesome_ to the squat _Warhawk_. Other than the _Titan_ and the _Warhawk_, nobody was formidable enough to give me real threat.

I did not know if it was reuniting with my old mech or helping the Davions that gave me a boost in morale. Gone was the ignominy of disgrace, replaced by thirst of victory. And it was not for my own fame. It was the realization that the more victories I bagged, the closer I was to watch the fall of Omar's Wildcats.

_Cheer for me, Omar_, I chimed mentally, _and I will cheer at your grave._

As the match started, I slammed my feet on the pedal. Always a runner, my _Gladiator_ responded with a strong jerk forward, bringing the 95-ton mass to the center. A _Mauler_ met my challenge, showering me with long-range weapons. Two missiles slapped me on the right torso, and a string of ballistics cored my left. My armor stopped every attack, but the _Mauler_ had enough ammunition to exhaust my armor.

On my left a _Stalker_ pounded the ground, raining down its lasers at me. I sidestepped the laser, but the missiles had a hard lock on me. Three of them peppered my rear armor. I twisted left, firing two rounds of lasers at the bird-like mech, while set my course toward the _Mauler_. Missiles and ballistics ravaged my right side, pressing the armor gauge on my right arm to yellow. I ignored the attack, firing two more rounds at the _Stalker_, then made an abrupt turn behind the _Mauler_.

The _Stalker_ fired its missiles, but the _Mauler_ blocked me, so the warheads smashed the unintended target. The _Mauler_ retaliated with its own missiles, followed by lasers and ballistics. The right side of the _Stalker_ started to bleed smoke and coolant. But it would not go down easy. Twin large lasers singed the bulk of armor on the left arm. Steamed hissed as the armor plating turned into orange jelly.

I could wait until they wore each other out, but such was not the way I wanted to win. I raised my cannons and hit the _Mauler's_ left arm. The 90-ton mech shook hard, leaning on its right leg as its left arm rolled in the air. Minor fire consumed the left torso, turning the myomer stubs into wrinkled thread.

Strangely enough, the _Mauler_ did not answer my challenge. It trudged forward and attacked the _Stalker_. Perhaps the pilot knew that he would not survive the game, so he sought for kills instead of overall victory. And it showed in his fighting pattern. Ignoring heat, it pounded the _Stalker_ in a curtain of ballistics. The _Stalker_ threw everything it had, answering each of the _Mauler's_ hard blows with its own. But careless heat management quickly sent it overheating. It fired its last round, then bowed down in idle, leaving the pounding for the _Mauler _alone.

Fighting with an assault mech was all about shooting. Maneuvering was scarce, since only a handful of assaults could make the most of its maneuvering aptitude. Fortunately, mine was one of them. I swung to the _Mauler's_ right, and while it continued to hammer the shut-downed _Stalker_, I ripped its right arm. The long-barreled laser broke into several pieces, and the _Mauler_ swayed to the left, sustaining the impact. But still it ignored me.

The _Stalker_ came back, but it already accumulated too much damage on the hull. The _Mauler_ fired the full gamut of its weapons, shredding the last bit of armor that covered the _Stalker's_ fuselage. Fire broke out of control, and the _Stalker_ pilot knew there was no point in continuing. He pulled the ejection lever, seconds before the entire fuselage exploded.

Finally the _Mauler_ turned to face me. Its front armor was mangled, a testament of just how fierce an ancient mech like the _Stalker_ was if used right. Before it had an unobstructed path, my lasers stabbed its right torso, turning the oblique launcher into a contorted slant. My twin LBX-20's followed suit, clobbering what was left of the launcher. Stored magazines exploded, and the _Mauler_ fell back on its butt, a result of late compensation of the explosion force.

As the _Mauler_ struggled to get up, I circled to the left, away from its potential retaliation. Suddenly a massive force struck me from the left. My console went static and gauges blinked in useless fashion. Waste heat seeped into the cockpit. I felt my mech tipping over, but I yanked my joystick to the left, and released it before I overcompensated. Such a brutal attack could only come from one source: the _Warhawk_. Only a PPC blast fried the electronics, ripped the armor, and spiked the temperature up at the same time. And by how far I swayed, I knew I was hit by more than one bolt.

My console went online, and the signature of a _Warhawk_ leapt into my eyes, 700 meters on my left. My armor turned dangerously orange. I pushed the throttle to maximum and sent my lasers at the sneaky attacker. Two emerald beams cored the upper left arm of the omnimech. Molten armor splattered over the wall as the _Warhawk_ spread its legs wider, seeking better weight distribution. Missiles rained down on me, and I turned right, covering my left side. The impact only jarred the cockpit slightly, not even enough to reduce to armor gauge to yellow.

The _Mauler_ arose to its feet, and fired whatever it had left at me. I bobbed and weaved, missing the majority of its ballistics, but its missiles raked my leg armor. For a reason alien to me, the Warhawk switched target and fired all PPCs at the _Mauler_. The mangled giant did not have any chance. A brilliant flash took over the mech, ripping it to pieces.

Killing the _Mauler_ while it was attacking me was a bad mistake, and I did not understand why such a blunder still existed at the assault class. Now the _Warhawk_ had to wait for 6 seconds for another attack. But why did I complain? It was mine for the taking. I sprinted forward, harassing the _Warhawk_ in a one-two punch. Three laser hits weakened the front armor, and when I reached 300 meters, I let my cannons loose.

The munitions hit the omnimech over a large area, creating impressive fissures all around the body. The 85-ton _Warhawk_ jerked behind, taking several steps to maintain balance. The pilot knew that his PPCs were only half as accurate at best, so he opted to use his secondary weapons. Barrages of missiles and smaller caliber of lasers sprinkled my mech from every direction.

My armor could handle them just fine, so I circled the _Warhawk_, waiting for my cannons to reload, then linked them together. As soon as the bells rang, I pounded its right hip, first with my lasers, then my cannons. The immense force cracked the hinge casing and jammed the leg in place. The _Warhawk_ squirmed frantically, trying to free the immobile leg, but the hinge was badly mangled. I waited for my laser to recycle, then blasted the hinge. The squat mech careened and slumped to the ground, crushing the PPC barrels on its left arm under its own weight.

Then, it was the _Grand Titan_.

The _Warhawk_ was still writhing on the ground, and I did not know if it counted as a kill, but I could not stay around for long. The _Titan_, albeit smoking and bleeding fire from several places, was the virtual king of the arena. Blood-red lasers zipped left and right, followed by missile rain that rocked my mech. I sent my lasers across the field, nagging the _Titan's_ left arm that was torn open, a sure sign of Gauss hit. Fire burst from the wound, and although the arm was still in place, I was confident that the missile launcher had been disabled.

The _Titan_ fired its pulse laser, two of which hit my left arm, a direct mirror of what happened ten seconds ago. A ton of armor was gone, and the armor gauge blinked in red. One more shot like that and my left LBX-20 would be gone. I turned left, but two more lasers cored my right shoulder. The pilot surely knew how to use his mech.

I stepped on the pedal, bringing my mech into a sprint. My lasers found its left torso, but with every hit, the _Titan_ came back and scored similar hit. I could not let it taking pot shots with its pulse lasers. I did not want a pyrrhic victory. And one was avoidable if I could bring my LBX cannons to bear. So I turned my mech straight toward the _Titans_. Laser strands of various calibers chipped the armor off my mech, so much that my center torso started blinking. But I weathered the storm, knowing that it would be over soon.

I pounded the _Titan_ from long range, trading fire with its deadly pulse lasers, until I reached 250 meters. The _Titan_ spat its short missiles, hoping to distract me, while raining its pulse lasers at incredible rate. I sidestepped the missiles, then fired my left cannon. The _Titan_ keeled over as fragmented shells tore a crack on its right torso. It realigned its torso, but I followed up with my right, pushing it further. The gash turned into a smoke-gushing hole. Teetering, the _Titan_ still had a fight in it, but my lasers were ready. I sank two emerald beams into the hole, and the entire right torso exploded in colorful flares.

I had to give some of the credit to whoever weakened the _Titan's_ armor. Had it not been damaged, I would have not dominated this fight. Nevertheless, the hundred-ton avatar showed incredible fighting spirit. Stripped to one-fourth its original punching power, it came back at me and fired the remaining missiles. I bobbed; missing the unguided missiles, then put my crosshair right at the smoking torso.

My next wave proved to be lethal. A series of explosions tore the mech apart. Blue flame seeped from the crack, hinting reactor breach. I backpedaled as the _Titan_ gave the final defiance to stand, then collapsed like a timber log. A moment later the reactor erupted in a mushroom-like cloud, taking the mech apart.

Before I could check my mech, the dark figure of a _Highlander_ challenged me in a duel. Its Gauss slug lodged in my right leg, threatening to snap it. My _Gladiator_ staggered, swaying in response of the disturbed balance. I did not compensate, instead I spread the legs wider. The _Highlander_ peppered me with its missiles, then took off to the air, legs aimed at my cockpit.

I did not understand why Spheroids liked this maneuver. It was risky, and it exposed the bottom part of the mech. Before the sturdy legs hit the cockpit, I raised both arms and blasted its crotch. The impact shifted the course of the 90-ton mech. It lost balance midair, and its feet flailed 10-degree upward. The mech flew over my head, then slammed the ground not 20 meters behind me. The quaked jarred the entire arena.

The _Highlander_ writhed on the ground for a while, then used its jets to get up. I scored two good hits on its torso, then ducked as the _Highlander's_ Gauss slug flew inches away from my right arm. I noticed that the _Highlander_'s movement was hampered. It must have been the crotch shot while it was trying to smash the cockpit. I could easily position myself behind the _Highlander_ and blast its weak rear armor. But the pilot did not seem to offer much. I opted to fight him in the old-fashion way.

I waited until all my guns were ready, then slugged the _Highlander_ with an alpha strike. The ancient mech instantly toppled behind. Major fire enveloped the torso, ripped open by my alpha strike. It rose to its feet, pulling off its last effort to stay in the game, hanging its life entirely on luck. But I was ready for it. Once again my twin LBX-20's barked, carving the torso that was nearly stripped to the bone. There was nothing left to hold. The _Highlander_ fell back and crashed in a furious flame.

So, there were only two mechs left standing, mine and an _Awesome_. In normal condition, I could take on an _Awesome_ without much difficulty. But considering I had only less than half armor left, and five ammunition left on each cannon, I had to be prudent. One wrong move and the _Awesome_ would put me into misery. On the other hand, the _Awesome_ had lost its right arm, reducing the number of PPC.

This was a contest of strategy.

Naturally the _Awesome_ would want to stay away from me, while I would try to fight close-quarter combat. But I had another advantage: the _Awesome's_ broad torso made a good target at long range, while my lanky mech was hard to target, especially if I twisted perpendicular from its line of fire. I decided to play his game.

The _Awesome_ took the offensive. Twin PPC bolts streaked over the great plain. I leaned on my left leg and twisted, making my area as small as possible. I could feel the heat as the twin bolts passed through my cockpit. The threat gone, I put my crosshair on the _Awesome's_ midriff and pumped my lasers. Molten armor streaked down its leg, and the big mech reeled behind.

Then there was a lull as we waited for our guns to recycle. My lasers were ready before its PPCs recycled, so I hit the _Awesome_ again. Its shoulder glowed in red. Then I twisted left, carefully protecting my damaged left side. Alas, a PPC bolt hammered my right arm. Warning sign intruded my ear, screaming critical damage. My damage screen did not show weapon offline, but the armor level dropped to a thread-thin bar.

Six seconds was enough to sprint toward the _Awesome_ to bring in my short-range killers. Once again I paced myself until I reached 300 meters. I linked all guns together and let it rip. The _Awesome_ took the hit pretty well, although the left torso blackened and chafed. It retaliated with its PPC, but this time only one bolt leapt from the tube. It grazed my right leg, pulling off a crack that spurted coolant and gear fluid.

The _Awesome_ did not stop. Six missiles leapt from the tube, streaking a mere centimeter in front of my torso. Lucky for me that the missiles were unguided. My laser found home on its right torso, practically wiping out its long-range weapons, then my ballistic silenced the short-range launcher. Standing mutilated, without any working weapons, the pilot knew that his only logical choice was to yield. And so he did.

My confidence flew sky high. It felt good to be back in my _Gladiator_ again.

Taking my mech back into the hangar, I noticed that Omar was waiting for me, escorted by his bodyguards. He was carrying a portable holo-video. What was his intention? As the platform brought me back to the ground, Omar gestured me to meet him.

"We've received an invitation," he informed me. "A duel invitation."

"Sanctioned duel?" I pondered. "How well this will sit in regular season and the championship?"

"I can make it sanctioned," Omar replied. "This guy is a hardcore Steiner. I guess our stable starts to make them nervous. They know that you are now untouchable, so they tried different way to make you perish from the competition. They tried to kill you in a duel. Watch this message."

Omar pressed a button on the holo-video, and a message hologram appeared. A man with African descendant appeared. "Greetings, Mister Parker. My name is 'Killer' Knauer, Overlord Stable. Your reputation precedes you, and I would like to challenge you in a duel at The Labyrinth. No reinforcement, no repair and reload, just the two of us. I will wait for you at noon, 2 weeks from now. If you are what people say you are, you will regard this invitation with utmost respect. However, should you opt to spurn me, then I can only address you as a coward. We'll know what your true color is in 2 weeks."

"What do you know about Knauer?" I asked Omar.

"Second-in-command in La Cosa Nostra. A ruthless warrior. Even more ruthless as an individual."

"What would it benefit us if I win?"

"It sends a message that it might be the Steiner that rules the Inner Sphere," ambition reeked from Omar's voice. "But here at Solaris, it's the Omar's Wildcats."

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

**TWENTY ONE**

_**The Labyrinth Arena,  
**__**Mitchell, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**May 15, 3065**_

This duel reminded me of Clan trials. Well, 'reminded' was an overstatement because I never remembered any trials I went through, except the one at Arc Royal. But I knew how Clan society solved their discrepancies. The difference was there was no real prize in Solaris duel. No rise in rank, no money, nothing. It was just a simple test of masculinity.

However, I had been here for so long that I sensed something treacherous behind this duel. I remembered that Steiners and La Cosa Nostra tried to expel me from the elite competition. Omar resurrected me, and now I was the backbone behind Omar's newly instated stable. It was a hard slap in Steiner's face, especially when they were trying to rally supporters to win the civil war. I felt that there was more of this duel than just a simple contest.

"You're right," Kyle told me the other day, when I came to him. "This is much more than individual rivalry. 'Killer' Knauer is second-in-command in La Cosa Nostra. He will not jeopardize Steiner's reputation by instigating a duel. La Cosa Nostra is not Grey Wolves. I think the Steiners are plotting a scheme to bring down Omar."

"What I do not understand is," I brainstormed with the Davion fighter, "that Knauer holds a prestigious position at the mob gang. Sending a lower-ranked warrior to duel me makes more sense. Why Knauer? If he loses, it will be hard for the Steiners to rebound. There is too much at stake."

"I don't know," Kyle mused. "Human mind is as deep as the ocean. You'll never see the bottom. But this much I'm sure: I want the Steiners, you want Omar. Play them both, and you'll kill two birds with one stone. And who knows by beating Knauer, you'll unveil more of their true scheme."

I had no doubt about that.

The Labyrinth was a unique arena built by Thome DeLon, the owner of DeLon stable. It consisted of a maze-like arena, filled with thick concrete walls that separated sections of the field. Nobody would get lost inside the maze, but the walls provided enough refuges for warriors to play a long, exhausting game. It was a death trap for short-fused mechwarriors, just like me. But on the other hand, the arena was urban warfare revisited. It was a perfect playground for my _Gladiator_.

"So, Parker," Knauer called me from his _Colossus_. "You are either honorable or foolishly overconfident."

"By answering your challenge?" I replied.

"By setting up nothing as your duel condition. You're convinced that you can beat me, aren't you?"

"I work for the Wildcats," I gave him the impression that I was controlled by Omar. "If my superior wants me to duel without prerequisite, I duel without prerequisite."

"A man's dog, you are," Knauer snickered. "Such a pity, considering your reputation. Very well, I meet you at the arena. Only one can come out alive. This fight does not stop until one of us dies."

There were several portals into the arena. I took one closest to me, which brought me into a long corridor, then to the maze. My radar picked up Knauer's signature: a nasty 95-ton mech with an AC-20, twin large lasers and twin medium pulse lasers. Four packs of coolant injectors made the mech unique. It was not designed for prolonged engagements, instead quick and decisive victories.

Which contradicted his choice of arena.

As I followed the maze, I pondered the bizarre situation. Knauer should know that the _Colossus_ was at its best at open field, where his coolant injectors would grant him unlimited laser bombardment without overheating. True, its AC-20 was a nightmare at close range, but it was his lasers that would deal the severest damages, setting up the AC-20 for its deathblow.

Why? Why would he negate his own advantage by picking The Labyrinth? The Coliseum would be a better choice. Factory Arena was the most logical choice, since it was blazing hot inside. He would flourish in a hot environment. Unless… unless he was another man's dog. Everything had nothing to do with his choice. He was just carrying orders, and he was supposed to lose – or get killed – in my hand, today, at The Labyrinth.

So complicated the scheme of the Steiners was.

Suddenly I picked up his signal moving directly at me. He was using his jets to fly above the maze and performed aerial attack. Soon he would be right above me, and the narrow corridor would only let him take one strike at me. But so it would for me. I exposed my right side to him, shrinking my posture, then hoisted my right arm, anticipating his emergence from behind the wall.

As soon as he appeared, I mashed the knob. The bellow of my LBX-20 made my ears ringing, and the fragmented munitions scrapped the left armor of the _Colossus_. But Knauer fired its lasers, two of which dug holes on my upper right arm. I twisted right to bring in my left LBX-20, but he was already gone, covered by the meter-thick concrete wall. I rushed to the end of the corridor, but it turned away from him.

"Why me, Knauer?" I asked while trying to find a way to get to him. "Why did you choose me?"

"Do you mean why not Odessa? Or Coleman? Or that damn Davion?" his reply came in a mirth. "Rumor has it said that you're a Clan, or of a Clan descendant, or was trained in the way of the Clan. Whichever is true, Parker, you're the prize that everybody's seeks. You're Nemea, and it is every man's dream to be Hercules."

The stench of lies reeked all over the place. "You could have fought me in the regular match."

"And share the excitement?" the _Colossus_ soared again. "If you study history of man, then you'll know that Hercules killed Nemea alone."

Before I could assume good position, the _Colossus_ zipped above my head, blasting its lasers. Steam hissed from overheated armor, and the acrid smell seeped into the cockpit. I traced the flying mech, but it already landed at the other part of the arena, blocked by layers of thick wall.

I began to think that Knauer chose this arena because of his tactic. He would wear me down with aerial attacks, and take cover before I could return fire. He would jump from place to place, making it impossible for me to get a duel him. It was the time when I regretted taking down the jump jets in exchange of more firepower. The _Gladiator_ had unusual agility for an assault, but it was useless in a maze. And Knauer knew it.

"Hercules fought Nemea because he _had to_," I stressed the last words while turning back. "Is that what happens, Knauer? That you _have to_ fight me?"

"Well, you surprise me, although your interpretation is wrong," Knauer turned to the other direction.

"Then enlighten me."

"There will be time for literacy, Parker. Today, it's time to fight."

I sensed avoidance. He was the one that brought it up, and now he refused to finish it. Perhaps I pushed the right button. I came to the end of the corridor, and I turned a hard left. Knauer was at the other end of the hall. I fired my lasers, nagging him on the left torso, shedding a ton of armor in fiery runnels. Knauer retaliated, missing left arm by a meter wide, then blasted his jump jets, taking refuge behind the walls. I paced my mech to attack him, but when I made a left turn where I thought I could find him, he was not there. I could see him on my radar, but I could not reach him.

He performed his aerial attack once again, this time straight ahead. I trained all weapons slightly above a wall, and at the first hint of his _Colossus_, I triggered all weapons. One laser and half of my munitions slammed into its hull. Knauer cringed, but quickly compensated the balance and rained down its laser at me. Three emerald beams speared my left torso. I felt a slight tremor as my armor gauge turned bright yellow.

I was getting frustrated of this game, but I know that was exactly what he wanted. So far he did the same maneuver three times, but it effectively worked against me. Albeit still functioned properly, my mech was in a worse condition than the _Colossus_. I had to find a way to break his pattern and beat him in his own game. But how? I could not fly. I was not fast enough to catch him while he was on the ground, and I was not quick enough to shoot him down when he was airborne.

"I do not believe you doing this as mere sport," I tried to tick him off. "I believe we are consanguineous, you and me. We are doing things we do not want to do, and after all day's work, somebody else will get the credit."

"You are nothing like me," Knauer sneered. "You're lost. I'm not."

"Because you are affiliated with the Steiner? Steiner is going down, and so will you."

"When the time comes for Katrina Steiner to solidify her throne, I will dance on your grave, Parker!" Knauer growled. "That, if you have a grave at all!"

That was it. That was his achilles tendon. Omar told me that Knauer was an avid Steiner supporter. All talks that discriminated House Steiner would push him to the edge. I could it that to lure him into the open, where my guns would overwhelm him. But first, I had to set up a formidable defense. The _Colossus_ was a mech I could not underestimate.

The corridor soon came to the corner of the arena. It was the perfect place for my defense. By standing in a corner, I did not have to worry about my back. All attacks would come from my front. It was very effective against enemies with superior agility. But to make it work, I had to lure him to attack me. So far he shied away from making frontal attack. He needed a bit of pressure, and I knew just the right way to do it.

"Katrina's troops has been loosing grounds," I provoked him. "You are blind or utterly ignorant if you refuse to admit it."

"Loosing ground?" Knauer broke into a long guffaw. "Loosing ground, you said? Who's commanding Davion's army? Where is Victor? Coward! His troops are fighting their asses off and he's hiding somewhere, watching the war from the comfort of his bedroom. Victor is an abomination to Lyran Alliance!"

"You are a scholar, Knauer," I replied in a calm but sardonic fashion. "You know that nothing came out good from murder. Ever."

"The only murder you'll see is when I am murdering you!" he replied in a growl.

The _Colossus_ jumped over the wall and scourged me with its lasers. Another ton of armor was gone, but I held my joystick firm, mashing my trigger when my crosshair burnt red. Only one connected to the upper left arm, but the splattering armor gave me a hint that I dealt significant damage to the armor.

Knauer did not shy away to charge me. Just the way I wanted it. I kept my position, my back against the wall, tracing the _Colossus_ as it snaked through the maze. It peeked over a wall, blazing its laser, attacking me from the ground for the first time. I bobbed and weaved, but nothing much to dodge when my back was nailed against the wall. Three large and two medium streaks chewed my front armor, turning it into scorching smelters. He kept the laser storm for a while, ignoring my return fire, then slipped behind another wall, 500 meters from my position.

Damage assessment hinted me that I lost a good 5 tons of armor, all in 25 seconds of laser outburst. This could not go much longer. I pushed my throttle to maximum, jerking my mech forward to close the range. My thumb grazed the alpha-strike stub, anxiously waiting for an unobstructed path to the _Colossus_.

Knauer brought his mech airborne again, but this time I expected it. Coming from an oblique angle, he sprayed his lasers, singeing my right torso. But I took a good lock at the stout mech, then slammed home my alpha strike. Sizzling armor blanketed my mech as the _Colossus_ tipped, losing its course as it soared over my head. Knauer tried to regain balance, but the twisted momentum brought him flying toward the edge of a wall. A loud crash echoed throughout the arena when the chubby mech smashed into the wall. Half of the concrete crumbled, blended with twisted splinters that were chipped armor.

Waste heat lingered in the cockpit, but I was not about to cease-fire. As Knauer struggled to get up, I stepped forward, closing our gap to 150 meters. Secure on its feet, the _Colossus_ realigned its torso, but my LBX cannons signaled its readiness. Dozens of razor-edged metals from my right cannon drove it to twist left. My left followed suit, sending munitions to chastise its left torso. Another tap on the trigger and twin emerald beams torched the left torso, leaving a twirl of smoke.

Knauer weathered the hail, then came back with its own assault. His AC-20 roared for the first time, spitting its venom at my right arm. The momentum forced me to twist a little. His murderous lasers flashed, furthering the damage from the autocannon, digging deeper into the delicate structure. Warning sign flashed, hinting critical damage. Instinctively I twisted right, but Knauer found a small clearing on my defense, and exploited it well. His pulse lasers eviscerated my lower right arm, rendering my cannon useless.

Like I had foreseen, Knauer's lasers dealt the most damage to my mech. My right arm and both sides of torso were flashing in red, and soon I would loose both lasers in the same manner I lost my right LBX-20. Subduing his lasers would be a tough work. The _Colossus_ was all mangled from the crash, but it still carried enough armor to withstand three or four assault before giving up. I could not afford to wait that long. I had to subdue the lasers or soon enough there was not much to fight with.

And my exit door presented itself in the form of the coolant injectors at the _Colossus'_ shoulders.

As soon as my weapons recycled, I deliberately aimed my LBX-20 at the stubs atop the _Colossus_ right torso. The fragmented shells ripped the containers open, spilling green ooze over its right side. I fired my laser at the crushed container, and torched the coolant. Fire engulfed the _Colossus_. I swung slightly to the right and hit the coolant container at its right side. The slop quickly caught the fire from the other side, and in a second the _Colossus_ turned into a walking inferno.

But Knauer knew he would not last longer, and he was determined to make the most of it. His AC-20 barked, coring my mech dead center. His lasers followed suit, wiping the remaining armor on the center torso and dangerously threatened the engine casing. I felt the harness burning on my shoulder as my mech jerked backward, tottering on its heels. Two more pulse laser strikes from Knauer and my left laser went offline. Half of the gauge blinked furiously, telling me that my mech would not stand much longer under such a vicious assault.

But I did not have to worry about it anymore.

The combination of internal heat and the fire pushed the _Colossus_ to shut down temperature. Without its coolant injectors, Knauer had to rely on internal coolant, and even then he had to give up a good half a minute to bring down his temperature to fighting condition. My mech was in no better condition, but at least I was far away from shutting down.

"Yield," I offered him an exit. "There is no point continuing this duel."

"Only one can survive," Knauer's reply came in intermittent burst. "It's the only way to finish it."

"It does not have to end with death."

"Then believe what you believe," he cackled. "Because I have won, no matter what."

I did not think I could squeeze more information from Knauer. He was adamant enough to stay in the duel, even though he knew he was beaten. For a moment I hesitated to finish it. But he did mention he won. He never said the winner was the last one standing. I guessed not killing him would not make any difference.

I linked all weapons I had left and buried my thumb on the trigger. Laser beam molded with ballistic tracers, almost like they entwined together into a large spear that thrust into Knauer's right torso. A fireball replaced the mangled torso, throwing off the laser-laden arm into the wall. The shock pushed the _Colossus_ to the opposite side, crashing into another wall. It slid gracelessly to the ground, leaving a nasty scar on the wall. Three more explosions ripped the torso apart, spurting sparks and smoke and body parts.

I hoisted my left arm for the final blow, but I would not have to. The _Colossus_ would not rise.

I always suspected there was a hidden agenda behind this duel. I inspected the arena for possible sneak attack, but as far as my radar could reach, I was the only mech around. Just like Knauer said. So I had to rest my worry for now, because whatever the Steiner was planning, it was not to harm me physically. Perhaps they were planning to bury Omar and me with one swift move, and this duel was the first step toward their ultimate plot.

I just had to wait and see what time would bring me.

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

**TWENTY TWO**

**Note: **Thank you very much for keeping up with me, especially **_Kat Wylder_**. As of today, this story has received more than 4000 hits, which averages 200 hits a week since it was launched in January. Knowing that this work appeals to many readers gives me considerable spirit to write.  
I have only 4 more chapters and I will try to make an ending that you'll never forget. Stay tuned.

* * *

_**Factory Arena, Montenegro,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**June 30, 3065**_

I was just powering up my mech when my comlink came to life.

"Listen to me, kid, for I just say it once," a pompous tone scrambled my ears as I connected the comlink to my headset. "This is Hauptmann-Kommandant Seats Robinson speaking. You have shown your worth disposing Killer Knauer. You have been invited to join La Cosa Nostra. You have one chance to submit yourself to us. When the white _Atlas_ asks your surrender, power down and exit your mech. Then La Cosa Nostra welcomes you."

"My affiliation is Omar's Wildcats, Hauptmann-Kommandant," I fibbed resistance. "I cannot serve two masters at a time."

"I do not ask your opinion, kid," the voice turned bitter. "Whether you do it or not, it's up to you, although it's a wrong decision to stay with Omar. Smaller stables like the Wildcats come and go. If you join us, you can go to places you've never thought possible before."

That was the sign I had been waiting for. He did not explicitly refer to Omar's downfall, but I could see it from his choice of words. La Cosa Nostra was planning to bury Omar, and they want to salvage whatever they could, including me. Besides, adding me to their arsenal would propel their reputation through the roof. Or perhaps they simply did not want me to fall to Davion's charm. Like Emi once said, I had built a formidable fan group.

_Play them, but never yield_. That was what Kyle said.

"I am flattered by your invitation, but I am not free to decide," I gave them the impression that I was working under contract. "As a man of my word, I would like to honor my agreement with Omar until the end of the season. After that, perhaps we can talk if your invitation has not expired."

A curt chuckle sprung on the comlink. "Wait until you see what we can do."

The comlink cut off, and I brought my mech into the Factory Arena. It was dim inside, but it was not hard to spot the white _Atlas_, right in front of me, on the far end of the arena. There were sixteen mechs total, including me, and at this point it was impossible to know how many combatants were Steiner loyalists. I spotted two mechs bearing blue Lyran fist, not including the white _Atlas_. Others deftly hid their emblems, and this phenomenon had become a trend since the civil war started.

So what would happen if I refused to stand down? How many mechs would attack me? I always expected that some combatants would gang up on me, but in this assault class, it was surprisingly scarce. La Cosa Nostra focused more on administration rather than physical combats like the Grey Wolves. But I could not rule out physical harm, and I had a feeling it would happen today.

Unfortunately, I was right. Too right.

As soon as the horn sounded, _all_ combatants turned their guns at me. All fifteen of them! I only had less than a second to get confused before countless laser beams, ballistics, and missiles speared me like torrential rain. Lucky for me, half of them were lousy shots, but those who were not landed critical hits that hurt my mech in less than fifteen seconds. Before I knew it, I was leaning backward. I quickly pushed the joystick forward, but soon realized I was too late. I could only braced the armrests of my command seat as my _Gladiator_ toppled, flat on its back. My neurohelmet slammed into the headrest of my command couch, turning the world to grey haze.

"I think Hauptmann-Kommandant Robinson had explained how this game worked," somebody hailed me from general frequency. "This is the right time to do it. Power down and submit before we do too much damage to your mech."

They already did. My left torso was blinking red, the combined effect of two Gauss slugs, three laser beams, at least 2 PPC blasts, and about half a dozen missiles. My right arm was next to worst, with only half the armor left. My gyro was damaged, and coolant seeped and hissed from a nasty gash on my center. Gout of fire was visible from my window. Everything happened in less than 30 seconds, without me firing a single shot.

My mind raced to find a solution. I was no stranger to this situation, but never this bad. I faced overwhelming odds at Engadine, and again at Arc Royal, and once again at Wotan. I survived Grey Wolves onslaught several times. But I always had time for careful planning. Today, I had no such luxury. I had to buy time, and I had to do it quick.

"Even if I did, Omar would not let it happen," I said while I got up. "You are asking the impossible."

"All you have to do is submit, Parker. We'll make it happen."

I wondered how long I should keep playing this game, when my life was the wager. Was it worth trying? Was revenge worth dying? It might not, but I was the one that put myself in this situation. I agreed to help the Davions, and accepting Steiner's invitation – enforced invitation – meant I defected. I did not think there was a way to get around this situation. Should I die, I wanted to die with decency.

"No, I cannot."

More missiles and lasers strafed the ground, creating a cloud of dust and smoke that covered my rise. I put my throttle to maximum, knowing that the agility of my mech was my only saving grace. If I had to go down, I wanted to take some of them with me. Turning left, two PPC bolts snagged a ton of armor on my left hip. My radar went static, disabled by the charged particles. It was impossible to trace the source of the attack, so I ignored it and focused on a _Zeus_ that stood right in front of me.

Missiles and lasers zeroed in on me, turning my front armor into bubbling mess. Then its large-bored autocannon flashed, sending 120-mm depleted-uranium droplets into my midst. I felt my stomach churn as the munitions cored my mech, and at such a close range, the effect was doubled. My cockpit shook, weathering the autocannon storm, and lucky for me the blast stopped at half the armor platting.

I realized that I only had a small window for retaliation, so I put my crosshair at the _Zeus'_ kneecap. I linked all weapons together and fired in unison. My lasers melted the armor, and my LBX munitions ripped half of the myomer bundles connecting the thigh and the calf. The _Zeus_ lurched to its right, staggering heavily to deal with the damage.

Before I could follow up my attack, my proximity alarm screamed. More than 3-dozen missiles streamed on the air, dropping its explosive on me like confetti. I could only raise my right arm to cover my cockpit. The blasts came in cascades, one after another, pushing me to the left. Some clobbered my right torso, dangerously threatening my large laser. But at such condition, I could care less about my lasers. As long as my LBX-20's stayed intact, I could take down a mech or two.

The _Zeus_ spotted my damage, and buried a good salvo of lasers at my right torso. Warning sign wailed, and my right laser went offline. I felt waste heat swept over me, and smelled the acrid smoke seeping into the cockpit, beating another warning signal about major fire. I flushed the coolant to help with the heat, then lined up with the _Zeus'_ mangled kneecap.

A quick tap on the trigger and my cannon roared, tearing the kneecap further. The laser cut through several layers of myomer like a scalpel, and the fragmented munitions gouged the hinge like a giant arm. The Zeus rocked back in its feet, trying to hit me with its autocannon but the quake threw its aiming away. I was so close to the _Zeus_ that I raised my right feet, and kicked the _Zeus_ on the knee. The sturdy leg snapped like a twig, and the 80-ton machine tumbled forward, face flat against the ground.

I had never used physical attack before I ran out of weapons, but now was not the time for _zellbrigen_. There was an opportunity to end the _Zeus_ in a quick fashion, and I intended to take it. I twisted left and shoved my left cannon against the back of the _Zeus'_ head. I pulled the trigger, and the cockpit burst into flames. Splinters of glass, metal, and flesh blended with sparks.

Another wave of attack came. This time a Gauss slug punched me in my center, forcing my mech to keel over. Three laser bolts singe me from behind, and missiles screamed in the air, ravaging my mech from every direction. Two warheads smashed into the cockpit, and I felt a snap of hot air gushed into me as the window broke. I twisted right, but another nickel-ferrous ball slugged me on the right shoulder. There was little left to hold the right torso, and it went off, taking away my right LBX-20 with it.

The explosion made my mech careened. I yanked the joystick hard to the right, coping with the instant force that threatened to put my mech to the ground. Several cannon rounds and lasers zipped past my right, but two PPC blasts fried my console. Sparks geysered from the console, and busted cables dangled from the ceiling. But I did not need them anyway. Damage assessment was superfluous at this time, and I just went on with my rampage, focusing the last bit of my energy at a _Warhawk_, the source of the PPC blasts.

Two Gauss rounds slammed into my right hip, and I felt the jerk, not sideway like I expected, but forward. The hit must have damaged my leg. The harness burnt my skin as it strained to keep me at the command couch. The _Warhawk_ sank another two-punch PPC blast on my damaged leg, denying my attempt to further decrease the distance. At 350 meters, I could not bring my LBX cannon to bear. The _Warhawk_ pilot knew this fact, and he backpedaled to safety, waiting for his PPC to recycle.

I abandoned my quest to singe it, and turned to the closest enemy, a Solaris-made _Cudgel,_ sneaking behind my back to break my backbone with its club-like arm. It would be the last mistake he would ever do. Pivoting with a damaged leg was not an easy task, but I used my bad leg as the pivot point. The metal screamed in protest, threatening to breach, but I did not have any choice. My crosshair burnt blood red just when the _Cudgel_ was ready to hammer me. I fired my cannon, and at point-blank range, the result was devastating. My munitions hit its right torso, twisting the mech halfway to the right, arms flinging to find lost balance.

While the _Cudgel_ swayed, the _Warhawk_ fired its PPC quartet in razor-sharp precision. All landed on my lower left arm, instantly rendering my left cannon useless. Three more PPC bolts ripped my left torso, destroying my remaining laser before I had a chance to use it. Missiles dug deep into internal structure, and three consecutive explosions turned my mech into a walking titanium skeleton.

But I was not about to let the _Cudgel_ go. I was not trained in hand-to-hand combat, especially because I had been a Clan mechwarrior, but I could do it if needed. The Cudgel had regained its balance and launched a powerful swing at my cockpit. I leaned back, missing the club by a mere centimeter. I could feel the wind swooshing on my face as the battering arm zip in front of my face. When it turned, I pushed my mech forward and rammed the stub of my left arm, with the defunct LBX-20 on it, right into the _Cudgel's_ face. Half of my arm snapped into three parts, and the last part drove into my left torso. But the lower arm smashed into the _Cudgel's_ cockpit. The _Cudgel_ jerked behind, taking several steps like a drunken man, then stumbled forward and crashed to the ground.

Then a gush of missiles swept my mech from its feet. The _Warhawk_ launched a full-blown assault that sheared my right leg off. There was nowhere to go but down, and once again my mech fell, facing the ground this time. I was suspended on the command seat by the harness, and for one moment, I really thought it was the end of me. I simply could not fight this war alone.

Hanging on the harness, waiting for the grim reaper to take my soul, I simply closed my eyes and played the highs and lows of my life in a quick flash. I did not have that many memories. The life I had come to know started at Engadine in 3058. I was a man with no history, until Phelan revealed my colorful history prior to 3058. But it was not part of me anymore. I had only 8 years, three years of which was a bondsman of Jade Falcon.

For truly 5 years of life, there was not much pride to revel, except Evee. She once said that _it was better to live a short happy life than a long empty one_. It did not make much sense when she said it, but it was the only thing that mattered to me now. If only I knew that I would meet the end of my life within 8 years of our courtship, I would not let her go. If only I knew that nothing in me could harm her, except for my reckless acts, I would not let her go. I would turn every single day of the last 8 years into heaven, so she would always remember it as the best 8 years. I would give up everything to go back and change history. But remorse always came late.

I just wished I could see her one last time.

And then I realized that time seemed to stop. My grim reaper did not come, and through the broken window I could hear thumps of mechs. Not explosions, but the rhythmical steps. Since my mech was facing the ground, I did not have visual access to the arena. What were they doing? What were they waiting for? I was afraid that if I exited my mech, the white _Atlas _saw it as a sign of submission. But after some more minutes passed by, I knew there was some new development that I was not aware of. Curious, I unbuckled my harness and climbed out of the hatch.

The arena was flooded by mechs – police mechs, _Chimeras_ with white cammo carrying SCPD emblems. The combatants, including the white _Atlas_, were routed on the far side of the corner. These mechs could easily destroy the police force, but I guessed the Steiners did not want to be the enemies of Solaris people. That would make the Davions as the sole protagonist in this civil war atmosphere. The sight of lumbering giants being held back by pesky midgets was a real treat, and for a moment I made myself enjoy the scenery.

A _tractor_ stopped by my mech, and none other than Captain Morton exited the vehicle, escorted by some officers. He smiled, more of a quip than relief, and the stare in his eyes told me that he could not wait to make fun of me. "I never think that a much-celebrated mechwarrior like yourself will ever need a police assistance."

"What happened?" I asked.

"The Solaris Gaming Commission decided that this match was ill-posed. They declared a 'no contest'."

"Decided?" I sensed an unspoken truth.

"Yes, decided… with interference from 'friends in the high place', if you must know."

"I thought your jurisdiction does not cover Solaris arenas."

"Who said it was _my_ interference?" Morton winked. "The less you know, the better. So just thankful that it happens this way, Parker. You're given a chance to live another day. Use it well."

I remembered Kyle said that it was Davion's interest that I did not die in the hands of Liao partisans. Perhaps it was also Davion's interest that I did not die in the hands of Steiner's supporters. I was sure Kyle was a part of this plot, but to stop a Solaris game in a class-six arena required authority far beyond Kyle's and Morton's combined. I could only wonder who my guardian angel was.

But then, it did not matter.

"If you meet this man, Captain Morton, please send me my highest gratitude."

"Will do," Morton nodded his approval. "And it's Major Morton now. I am the Chief of Solaris City Police Department."

"Congratulation on your promotion," I offered a handshake. "I am glad to hear it."

"So am I," he smiled while grabbing hold of my hand. "You take care."

As Morton went, more _tractors_ collected the remains of my mech. It would be hard to rebound from this arena, and even if Omar decided to do it, it would take considerable time and money to rebuild my mech. I could see Omar selling it as a junk. That was what I would do if I were him. It was sad to part with my mech after only a short reunion. But it was ill fated from the start.

But then, it did not matter. As a matter of fact, nothing else mattered anymore. Today's fight changed my perspective about how I saw things in my life. Money, revenge, the championship, nothing could come close to what Evee meant to me. I had wished that I wanted to see her again. My wish came true, and like Morton said, I had to use it well.

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

**TWENTY THREE**

_**Wildcats Headquarters, International Zone,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**August 28, 3065**_

Steiner's fist finally fell on the Wildcats like a hammer.

I was just out of a simulator when the voice of Omar screaming his lungs out reverberated through the entire hangar. Pilots and technicians bartered looks; some of them talked in whispers, others quickly left the buildings, opting for ignorance. Some of the pilots just wanted to fight. They did not want to take part in stable management, especially with a greedy owner like Omar.

I did not care about managerial duty, but I had never seen anything pissed Omar the way he did. I had a feeling that it had something to do with the Steiners. I had been waiting for this, so I dared myself to knock and fib sincerity when I asked, "What is going on?"

"Look at this crap!" Omar hurled a piece of paper at me. "Who do you think they are, treating me like some stable master that cares nothing but money? How dare they do this?"

The paper was a notice from Coliseum manager, written with Lyran Alliance letterhead. It was a short letter, however, it was the content that almost made me smile:

_We discovered that Wildcat's pilot had conducted fights on Davion-sanctioned arenas. For civil war security matters, the Lyran Alliance authority cannot accept fighters that conducted such fights. Therefore, all mechwarriors from Omar's Wildcats will not be granted access to the Coliseum. Such mechwarriors will be excluded from Assault and open-class Grand Championships. _

_The Lyran Alliance sends its condolences to parties that may be affected by this new regulation in any way._

I posted a long face, but mentally I was grinning from ear to ear. The Steiner had this planned long before they issued a duel with Killer Knauer at The Labyrinth. They knew that Omar would not pass an opportunity to cement his superiority on Solaris arenas. They chose the Labyrinth, a Davion place that favored me and my fighting style so I could win. When Omar's confidence was sky-high, they hammered him, dramatizing the fall Omar had to endure.

I did not care about the civil war. To me, Davions and Steiners were just two different sides of the war. But I rejoiced in Steiner's ploy, and the frustration in Omar's face was a sight to behold. Davions like Kyle Garret would not do anything to Omar. He was too honorable to deal with local troublemakers. But the Steiners would accentuate their dominance on every planet within their space, including Solaris. It was foolish of him to think that the Steiners would let him be the king on his own term.

"This is not fair," I inflamed his anger further. "I am not a Davion, and I will never be one. They cannot treat me the same way they treat Davion loyalists. Solaris should be free from politics. Is there anything the Solaris Gaming Commission can do to overturn this regulation?"

"SGC can do many things, but as long as you aren't granted access to the Coliseum, you can't fight there," Omar let out his steam. "This is not a matter of scheduling. This is a matter of security clearance. You know what this is, Parker? They're jealous. They think we are a threat to them. They think they can bully us by showing off their authority at Silesia. Well, apparently they don't learn from George Hasek and his Capellan March Militias. If Hasek can defy Katrina, so can we!"

"What are you going to do?" I asked, curious about what he planned to assess the situation.

"I'm going to court!" he brusquely got up from his chair. "Keep practicing, Parker. This is not over."

As he went out of his room, I finally had a chance to release my long-overdue chuckle.

* * *

_**Solaris Courthouse, International Zone,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**October 16, 3065**_

It had been grueling months for Omar, rallying supporters and lobbying authorities before he went to court. I could not tell how much money he spent to enlist anybody he thought could give him an advantage in court. I thought at one point he went to Davion authorities, claiming that his victory over the Steiners would benefit the Federated Suns in the most possible way. But like I predicted, Davions turned down his plea. He should have known that Davions were not interested in Solaris domination. Apparently, he did not see it.

Today, it was time for the verdict.

I sat among other pilots from the Wildcats behind Omar, supposedly showing supports for the stable master. But I was there for anything but support. I wanted to see his face when he realized that his quest was finished. I wanted to see his eyes when he learnt the fact that his career as stable master was over, and that the money he invested would only bring him so far.

"Mister Omar, it is Lyran Alliance's right to protect its interest," the judge said, trying not to lead everybody to any conclusion. But his eyes gave away the fact that he would disappoint Omar. "The Coliseum is in their territory, and it is their decision to not grant Davion-connected mechwarriors to fight in the Coliseum. We can't overturn this decision. Your plea has been denied."

"Your honor, were my client a Davion loyalist, we would have accepted this regulation," Omar's attorney appealed. "But he is not, and neither is his mechwarriors. Parker is one of the highest-ranking players. It will be a shame if he does not compete because of administrative matter. Besides, the fight at The Labyrinth was instigated by the Steiners. They chose the arena, not my client."

"Be careful of what you're saying, Counselor," the judge suddenly gave a stern look. "Are you implying that Mister Omar does not have connection to Davion?"

"Never have and never will, Your honor," Omar replied.

"Mister Omar, I have in my hand an affidavit of transfer of a _Gladiator_ mech from Ryan Thatcher, Chief Technician of Shooting Stars, to Omar's Wildcats. Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Omar, but isn't the Shooting Stars the nickname for 160th Davion Guards?"

I must have grinned from ear to ear. For the first time since I came to Solaris, I started to like Kyle Garret.

"What?" Omar's disbelief thundered throughout the entire courtroom. "I didn't know… he didn't say anything about it! I swear to God I didn't know if he's a Davion! I wouldn't make the transfer if I knew he was a Davion!"

"So when you signed this document, did you overlook his name? Or did you ignore it because the transfer was 'just' 25 grand?" The judge drew a deep breath before uttering his final words, "This part is mostly your own fault, Mr. Omar. You put yourself in this situation. There nothing I can do. Your plea is denied."

"No! No, wait!" Omar stormed the judge's table, drawing the security guards to usher him. He writhed under the restraints of the security guards, but soon found out that his effort was vain. In a desperate move, he looked at me, fire burning in his eyes. "Are you any part of this?"

My answer was just a simple shrug.

"If you think you can play me, you're dead wrong, Parker!" he burst. "You know what I am capable of!"

But I knew he was not capable of doing anything anymore. He was a beaten man, dejected by the Steiners, rejected by the Davions. And after today, nobody would want to work with him anymore. Nobody liked a traitor. He most likely would lose his job at the SGC, and with the Wildcats being banned from Silesia, soon pilots would leave the stable. What was the point of fighting on Solaris without a shot at the Grand Championship?

I did not need to see the end to predict what kind of life Omar would lead for the rest of his life. I felt sorry for him, but he brought everything upon himself. Or to be exact, his greed brought everything upon himself. He had everything: money, power, position, fame, everything a man could ask. Had he stopped after winning everything on the heavy circuit, none of this would happen. But I guessed money was like a blanket. The more you had, the more you wanted.

I was walking out of the courthouse when several men approached me. The one in the middle was clearly the leader of the pack. His eyes stabbed me with a sharp confidence, and his expression told me that he wanted something from me, and would not stop at anything until he got it. The small Lyran emblem on his collar led me to one name and one name only.

"Hauptmann-Kommandant Robinson, I presume," I said.

"You are foolish to disregard our invitation, and chose death instead," he wasted nothing. "However, looking at your reputation, we would like to give you another chance. On the championship, kill Kyle Garret. You don't have to win it or to surrender like the last time. Just kill that Davion bastard and we'll welcome you."

"You are forgetting something," I smiled. "I am banned."

"No," Robinson shook his head. "Omar's Wildcat is banned. You don't have to be."

"In other words," I surmised, "I can still play if I quit?"

"You're smart, Parker," the Lyran man snorted. "You'll figure out what's best for you."

Once again, I was not interested in politics. I did not want to be any part of it. But if I had to choose, I would lean toward Kyle Garret. He was Evee's best friend, and he proved himself to be a true friend, even when I was less than friendly to him. Robinson, on the contrary, had tried to have me killed.

When Robinson disappeared from my sight, I drew my personal comlink. I punched in some number, and waited for several seconds before somebody answered from the other line. "Kyle? Parker. You will not believe what I just heard…"

* * *

_**Kinebatu Travel, Montenegro,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**January 17, 3066**_

_"Hello, Solaris fans! This is Duncan Fisher, bringing you the play-by-play of Assault Championship 3066, live from Solaris! It's been a crazy season so far, and most unexpected rise of two mechwarriors, Kyle Garret and a man only known as Parker. Their legendary rivalry harkened back to the light circuit in 3063, and together they knocked out the majority of Steiner loyalists, shifting the balance of power from Steiner domination to dark horses._

_"In a surprising move, Parker had declared independence from Omar's Wildcat, and is one of the finalist that will fight for Assault Championship. As we all know, Parker is enlisted as one of the mechwarriors that was banned from the Coliseum due to prior engagement in Davion-managed arenas. I think this regulation is not fair, but who can blame the Steiners in this civil-war atmosphere? Just thank the Lyran Alliance that make Parker's fighting on Silesia possible. The championship will not be the same without him._

_"The anticipation is mounting up, the inevitable is looming. Who will win the Assault Championship? Many major players had been disposed, and all talks are about Kyle versus Parker. A Davion front-liner against a man with Clan background. And will they bring their rivalry to the Grand Championship? That's the one million c-bill question that will haunt us for a month. One month, for a five-minute rumble in the Coliseum. Who will win the Grand Championship? You have your opinions. Let's follow the opinions of Solaris experts…"_

I watched the TV, smiling at the irony that this was the third time in 2 years I queued up behind the counter of Kinebatu Travel, trying to make an exit out of Solaris. It was the end of the season, and only the Assault and open-class Grand Championships remained. Kinebatu Travel was flooded by mechwarriors and game enthusiasts that purchased home tickets. And the crowd did not justify the number of spectators that visited Solaris just to see the championships. Most of them had already booked round trip tickets. But the ones that still had to buy tickets had to spent nights and days at Kinebatu Travel. People sleeping on the floor were not an uncommon sight.

As the line moved up slowly, Duncan Fisher kept babbling over and over about the odds, while the other two speakers profusely flamed his outlook. It brought my mind to retrospect my life as a Solaris jock, from the time I stepped my feet at Solaris soil. I was nobody, unknown, neglected in the razzle-dazzle of this intergalactic game. Today, I was a celebrity. Half of Solaris was behind my back against Kyle Garret, which was evident in my 2:1 odd. But it was not an easy 4-year period. The glamour of Solaris almost sucked me into its trench. My rectitude had to suffer from Solaris lifestyle, because there was only one pride in Solaris: to win the championship. Even with the money and fame from winning the championship, this was nowhere near what I envisioned, long before I arrived at Solaris.

So here I was, queuing behind thousands of thousands of Solaris visitors, wondering if I really should be doing this. Sometimes I asked myself: was I that hard to please? What was it that I wanted? I had a life that many people would kill for. Yet my mind wandered away to the place that was almost impossible to reach. A place that might not be there when I arrived. And if it were there, was there a guarantee that I would not stray to some other place? I did not know the answers. Only time would tell.

When I finally arrived at the counter, the cashier greeted me with a sour smile and a generic question where I wanted to go. My hat, sunglasses, and unkempt beard hid my true identity from the cashier, and I could not imagine what happened if she realized that she was talking to one of the Grand Championship finalists, trying to get out of Solaris. I bought a ticket to Tamarind in Free World, and stated my belongings. She entered my information, then gave me the two tickets, one for me, the other for my mech.

I was just barely walking out of the building when Kyle and Natalie greeted me. I saw that my disguise failed to fool them, and I sensed mixed signals on their presence. "If I didn't know you better, I would've guessed you chickened out," Kyle joked. "Are you scared to kill me?"

I smiled. I was nowhere close in solving my dilemma, so I gave him a sincere reply, "I am not leaving yet. I will still meet you at the Assault Championship. But there are only 2 commercial flights to New St. Andrews. One is from Tamarind in April, the other one is from Circinus in December. The flight after Assault Championship is the closest one to catch the flight from Tamarind. As soon as it concludes, I am going out of Solaris."

"Then suddenly it's Evee above everything else," Natalie tuned in. "Are you done caring about your past catching up with you? The very reason that brought you to Solaris? I thought you were going to Atreus first."

I simply smiled and shook my head. "Once I woke up at Engadine, knowing nothing but my presence. I learnt to be someone new, and this is who I am now. Perhaps it was better to not remember who I was. I cannot change yesterday, but I live today and I can always prepare for tomorrow. Next time another ghost comes for me, I will be ready."

"Have you thought over what you are walking away from?" Kyle tuned in. "The Grand Championship… testing yourself against the best of the best. The pumping of testosterone in your veins. Being in the place where you're made for and excelled in. Being in the single most coveted, most exalted battle the Inner Sphere had come to learn. It's a one-life chance to prove yourself and to be a billion c-bill richer. You have a shot to immortalize yourself in Solaris."

"You are asking the wrong question," I smirked. "You should have asked 'Is Solaris worth her'? My immortality does not lie at Solaris. My immortality is Evee Ridinghood. I am taking my one shot at immortality. It is a long shot, but it is worth everything. She might not be worth it. She might have moved on. And after what I did on Solaris, she might not want me anymore. But at the very least, I owe her an apology. I owe her a concession that I was wrong. If I can win her back, then I will live the life I always wanted. If I fail, only oblivion is left for me. But regardless what happens, tomorrow will always wait at Solaris."

"Then there's nothing here to hold you," Natalie said in full smile. "We're gonna miss you. You know how to fight better than any of us, Parker. Fight for her like you've never fought before."

"Thank you," I moved to hug her, gently as to not put too much pressure on her bulging belly. "I am sorry for missing your first child. I will remember you."

"We're not here for long either," Kyle quipped. "After the Grand Championship, Natalie and I are going back to the front line. Davions had been gaining grounds everywhere, and it's time for me to make the final push toward New Avalon. But don't think you rid of me this easy, Parker. I hope to see you again someday," and he leaned toward me, whispering and winking, "in a tuxedo."

I burst out laughing. "That is not my decision anymore, is it?"

"No. But you can always try."

"True," I shook his hand as hard as I could. "I can always try."

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

**TWENTY FOUR**

_**Steiner Coliseum, Silesia,  
**__**Solaris City, Solaris VII,  
**__**Freedom Theater, Lyran Alliance,  
**__**February 1, 3066**_

It took me a great deal of money and time to restore my mech. Now that I was independent from any stable, there was no chance I got another mech for the assault championship. _Red Baron_ was all I got. But it was always all I got. I beat Ranna Kerensky and Jerome Helmer, probably two best warriors I had ever met. I spent roughly one-third of my winnings to restore it to working condition. And once again I drove it into the Coliseum, facing 31 other finalists in the biggest game I had ever played.

And the last.

Kyle entered the arena with a unique _Outrider_, one of Davion answers to _Fafnir_, Steiner's flagship. A well blend of speed, armor, and firepower, the _Outrider_ sported 2 Gauss rifles, a large laser, and medium lasers as backup weapons. Hauptmann-Kommandant Robinson marched toward his designated spot in his _Hauptmann_, painted in traditional blue-white Lyran. A _Thunder Hawk_ and a _Warhawk_ sandwiched him side by side, clearly bearing Lyran fists on their center torso. And so did 10 of other mechs.

"Here we go again, Parker," Kyle hailed me. "I've rallied Davion and Marik loyalists, plus some wildcards and mercenaries, nine in total. They're going to work together with us against 13 Lyran partisans. We're still short of mechs, but the last two might just disrupt the Steiners. Hopefully there will be enough space for us to make a run for Robinson."

"You and me?" I confirmed.

"You and me," Kyle reassured. "We're the only ones fast enough to do it."

"You know, Robinson wants me to kill you," I snorted. "Why do you dare to trust me on this?"

"I don't," I caught a slight chuckle. "But I trust Evee, and she trusts you."

My smile blossomed amidst the blare of the horn. Spheroids. I could never completely understand them. They were raw, crude, and sometimes irrational. But they had their own way of expressing their feelings, something that I lacked of. I had to say I was intrigued. Perhaps it was the nurture of a mother that made them that way. Something that I definitely lacked of.

The Steiner's _Thunder Hawk_ and _Warhawk_ moved in toward me while others attacked mechs that did not bear Lyran insignias. A _Templar_ boldly threw itself in front of a Lyran _Awesome_, virtually blocking its line of fire from me. The two quickly traded fire, a Lyran _Longbow_ sneaked behind the cover of the _Thunder Hawk_ and sprouted its Arrow IV batteries. The artillery missiles sheared the _Templar's_ right arm in one sweep, leaving a burning stump crackling while the 85-ton machine spun out of control.

"Potential threat with Arrow IV, left flank," I called Kyle. "I am going in."

"I hate artillery mech," Kyle growled in response. "Go for it. I'll delay the _Thunder Hawk_."

The _T-Hawk_ raised both arms, but Kyle's double Gauss slugs slammed into its left torso, forcing it to twist left. I sprinted toward the _Longbow_, desperately trying to hide behind the troll-like _T-Hawk_, waiting for its Arrow to reload. I put my crosshair squarely against its torso and burnt a ton of armor with a direct hit.

"So it's Davion you're sided with," Robinson's voice crackled. "What a shame."

"You said I would know what was there for me," I replied while preparing my cannons. "My best course is to stay away from your pointless civil war. I will never submit to your cause, Robinson."

"Noble words, _trashborn_, but prove little," his voice was ridged with disdain. "And I suppose the Davion thinks it's better not to mess around with a Clanner."

"Kyle is," and I did not believe myself when I said, "my friend."

"Then die with your friend!" his word preceded nasty particle claws, coring my right arm while pushing me off balance. My faithful mech staggered, but I gently led it to use the momentum to swing left, keeping the focus on the _Longbow_. I could deal with the _Hauptmann_ later, but the Arrow IV had to be silenced as quickly as possible.

The _Longbow_ recycled and turned toward me, aiming its big guns with grace. At 500 meters, I knew there was nothing I possessed that could deflect the artillery missiles. So I widened my feet, taking a stable stance, and braced for impact. The missiles leapt into the sky, leaving perfect arcs behind, and blasted me right on the center. The jerk snapped my head forward, almost hitting the console. The heavy neurohelmet strain my neck so hard I thought my head had flown toward the window. Incredible quake washed the cockpit, and the armor gauge blinked in red fury.

Nevertheless, I remained standing, and the _Longbow_ had to wait for another 8 seconds to reload. It was my turn to smash it. The sudden forward move jerked me behind, fast against the command couch. The _Longbow_ backpedaled, firing medium lasers to ward me off, but I quickly entered the 300-m barrier, and hit my trigger. My lasers melted the armor on its right arm, and my LBX-20's cored a deep gash in a splinter storm. Smoke billowed from the tube-like arms, and for a moment, the _Longbow_ careened to its left side.

I did not know if I disabled its right Arrow, but I could not take a chance. My lasers recycled faster than its Arrow, so I fired it as soon as it was ready. Molten armor sprayed over the wall. As the _Longbow_ realigned its missile tubes, I turned left, circling the 85-ton mech, away from its dangerous lock.

Still, my proximity alarm screeched in useless knowledge. The missiles launched again, but at 250 meters, I might be able to dodge them. I slanted left as far as I could, missing the missiles by a mere centimeter. They snaked and looped behind me, altering its course, now targeting my rear. I pivoted and sidestepped them, but one blew a ton of armor on my right hip. The quake almost toppled my mech, but I quickly compensated, bending my knees to divert the momentum. The other missile slammed into the ground, kicking debris and smoke into the air.

Once again the _Longbow_ retreated, but I was not about to let it go easily. My left LBX-20 barked, sending a hail of razor-edged munitions at the gouged right arm. A brilliant fireball expanded from the right tube. The _Longbow_ swayed from left to right, coping with the sudden force that threatened to knock it down. My lasers found a mark on the left arm, and my right LBX-20 finished what my laser beams started. The left tube cracked, and judging by the size of the wound, I knew the _Longbow_ would not fire its missiles anymore. With only medium lasers left, the _Longbow_ turned its back and sneaked behind other Steiner mechs, driving off to safety.

"Artillery is disposed," I diverted my attention toward Kyle and the rest of the mechs. About one-third of the combatants had been knocked out, and what remained would not stay long, except Robinson. His crews deftly covered him, so he had not been hit yet. The Davion-Marik-mercenary coalition surprisingly held the Steiners Kyle's mech boldly went toe-to-toe with the _T-Hawk_. The extra 15 tons of the _T-Hawk_ failed to deal with Kyle's far-fetched speed. It was a matter of time before it fell. But Kyle was taking damage himself, peppered from afar by an _Awesome_ bearing Chinese Bandits insignia.

"Get that sonofabitch off my back, will ya?" Kyle growled. "I'm busy with this Lyran troll."

My lasers streaked across the field, hitting the _Awesome_ on its right torso. I could see the yellow-painted torso glowed in orange hue. The _Awesome_ came back with its triple PPC. Only one connected to my left arm, but it was enough to send my mech spiraling. I held the joystick backward, then slammed my foot on the pedal, demanding speed. My lasers came online, and I fired my second salvo at the _Awesome_, peppering its left torso. Burning metal sloshed in fiery droplets.

The _Awesome_ furiously attacked me in cascade, firing its PPCs one at a time. I dodged the first, but caught the second. My right torso sparked in blue as half my gauges went dead. The third flew above my head, mostly because the excess heat made the targeting computer unreliable. Steamy coolant hissed out of its back.

I lined up with its damaged left torso, and my lasers had already cored the armor when two blue streaks drilled its torso, right where the armor had been severely depleted. The attack went deep into the internal structure, spilling plasma from breached reactor. The Chinese Bandit turned its right arm toward the incoming _Hauptmann_, but four more PPC bolts singed its reactor. As the _Awesome_ dropped to one knee, the _Hauptmann_ sprinted full speed, quickly getting into the LBX range. Before the _Awesome_ could rise, the large cannon on the _Hauptmann's_ shoulder flashed. The _Awesome_ fused into a fireball.

"You've picked the wrong side of the war, Clanner," the _Hauptmann_ dashed at me. "Now die!"

His PPCs barked again, one of which grazed me left shoulder, sending armor bits flying behind. His missiles followed suit, ravaging my weakened left torso. The jarring impact almost ripped my eardrums, and my left laser went dark, swallowed by the wave of explosions that consumed my mech.

I inspected Robinson's _Hauptmann_, and came to a bitter realization that he did not even have a scratch yet. All this time, he just watched his goons did the hard work while picking up fights with critically damaged mechs. What a shame act for such a renowned officer like himself. It was people like him, along with Omar, Daniels, and many more, that gave Solaris game a bad name.

The _Warhawk_ kept its distance and blasted me from extreme distance. Two bolts snapped my right arm, flailing it away from Robinson's mech. I smelled burning myomer, and I knew it would not stay very long. The _Warhawk_ fired another round of PPCs, but a bright red light burnt its armor on the right arm, followed by two 125-kilo nickel-ferrous slugs onto its weakened armor. The upper arm shattered like a twig, and the PPC-laden arm dangled with burning strands of myomer.

"Get him!" Kyle practically screamed in my ears. "I'll hold the _Masakari!_"

Wasting no time, I fired my remaining laser, straight at Robinson's right torso. The slanted torso turned into a pool of burning metal. He shrugged the attack, then aimed his large-bored scattershot autocannon at my right arm, but I caught him first. Both my LBX cannons bellowed, raining down depleted-uranium bits on the Inner Sphere omnimech. The _Hauptmann_ swayed, weathering the attack, then launched its fury.

Both arms flashed, firing charged particles in claw-like streams that sheared my right arm off. I held my joystick hard, but the subsequent LBX round shoved my mech too far behind. I did not want to fall flat on my back, so I pushed the joystick down, coercing my mech to crouch. Robinson's missiles flew over my head and arced to the ground, sending shakes throughout the arena.

A fine mech, the _Hauptmann_ was. But as many other Lyran warriors, Robinson relied on large-bored weaponries and the thick hide of the _Hauptmann_ a little too much. A classic, archetypal Lyran doctrine of warfare.

So I pushed my mech back up and sprinted toward his left flank, peppering his right torso with my laser. As soon as my cannon ready, I let it go. The _Hauptmann_ hunched over, and smoke started billowing from multiple cracks.

Robinson dragged his mech to backpedal and spread his arms, but at 250 meters, the PPC was highly inaccurate. The blue flash soared past my mech, not even close enough to raise the temperature. My position on his left side negated his chance to use other weapons. The reversed-joint legs made it awkward to backpedal, and from his hesitant movements, I knew he realized that his doom was looming close. He might be a fine warrior and a good commander. But here, now, I ruled over him.

My laser gauge went green, signaling its readiness. I tore a slab of armor on his right torso, then sank a power punch with my LBX cannon. The right torso caved in, squashing the LBX ammunition feeder. Tongues of fire jetted from the torso. The CASE system held back the explosion to the right torso area, but the entire torso disintegrated into a furious blast. The _Hauptmann_ bent and grazed the sand, supported by only its left arm.

My sweat had drenched my face, but I endured the ache of sitting inside a blazing cockpit, and fired another round of laser at Robinson's remaining arm. Then I brought my mech to close in and decked the Hauptmann's arm with my foot. Metallic crunch echoed throughout the arena, and the _Hauptmann_ tumbled forward, arm flailing in useless twist.

"You lost today, but the Lyran Alliance might still have a use of you," I hailed him through general frequency. "Let this be known to you that I have no side in your civil war. Yield and I will let you live."

His reply was long delayed, but much obliged. "You bastard! This is not over, _trashborn!_"

"It is," I replied, taking steps backward. "It is for me."

I turned my back, but much to my surprise, my proximity alarm screamed. I had only a second to realize that Robinson did not mean everything he said. Or was it me that misinterpreted _this is not over_? I did not know. Another Inner Sphere treat that I had a hard time to understand. His missiles clobbered my thinned rear armor. Warning sign deafened me as power dropped down to 35 percent. My mech lost its balance, and I did not have enough power to hang on. I let it dropped to one knee.

Mad and provoked, I smelled coolant bleeding from my back, and I prepared myself to stand my ground. I spread my arm and twisted, but instead the _Hauptmann_, I saw the _Outrider_. One arm was missing; the other was a breath away from breaching. Smoke billowed from its torso, and the Gauss cannons had long gone. But it stood proudly, one foot on top of the _Hauptmann's_ face, crushing the head against the sand of the Coliseum.

"You should've killed him whenever you had a chance," Kyle scoffed. "You lost your instinct, Parker."

"I am indebted to you," I pushed my mech to stand up. "My thanks."

"Come on, one more Lyran," Kyle stomped on the head of the _Hauptmann_ one more time, ensuring Robinson would not repeat his stunt. "Then we have the end for ourselves."

There were only 3 mechs standing on the arena. The other one was the white _Atlas_ I encountered at Montenegro. It was in no better condition than the two of us. Both arms were gone, and one laser strike would probably destroy it. But it might still have weapons that could destroy us. It was hard to tell, since my radar had long gone, fried to the last component by the _Warhawk's_ PPC strike.

"Spread out," Kyle said. "Take his left. I'll pound his right."

"Left it is," I pushed my foot on the pedal. I lost so much power that I could only run half as fast, but it was enough to confuse the _Atlas_. Missiles leapt from its launcher, swarming me like drones. I closed my eyes and put my fate in the hands of my mech. My remaining laser dropped dead as my right torso breached. Fire raged out of control. Nevertheless, my mech remained intact. How, I was not sure. It seemed that the pounding it received since the start of the championship only pushed it to get madder.

A bright javelin from the _Outrider_ stabbed the Atlas in the midst, flaring a bonfire that had long been subdued. I raised my arm and fired my LBX-20 at the fringe of its range. The _Atlas_ bent, coping with the momentum, but quickly retaliated with its missiles. The swarm swept the arm of the _Outrider_ in an explosive storm, but Kyle was not intimidated. Twin medium lasers burnt the remaining body part of the _Atlas_, and I added a blast with my LBX-20. Three internal explosions ripped the _Atlas_ into shards, and the remaining body slumped to the ground, still alive, but had nothing left to fight with.

"I'm overheated," Kyle stated. "Finish him up, Parker."

"Alright, stand back," I raised my left arm, lining up with the _Atlas'_ blazing torso. As soon as Kyle reached a safe distance, I mashed my trigger. An orange fireball claimed the place where the _Atlas_ had been a moment ago, raining splinters over a wide area.

"Nice work, Parker," Kyle mentioned. "That leaves the two of us. May the best warrior win."

There we were again. We had been conquering arenas for the last four years, blasting mechs after mechs, and it came down to this. But we had never really fought side by side, until today. I did not know if he felt the same way, but I always saw him as a threat. A threat to everything I owned: my dignity, my self-respect, and Evee. He owned everything that I lost. I fought him my hardest because he was my demon.

But then, I realized that if it was not because of him, Evee would be dead on Carver V. I would not have any hope with her. And no matter how hostile I was at him, he took it like a gentleman that he always was. I saw no point in this fighting anymore. Well, I did not want to fight anymore.

"No," I replied. "Let this be the end of our rivalry. There is nothing more to prove."

"What are you saying?" he bemoaned, demanding explanation. "Do you concede?"

"You misinterpret me. I do not want to fight you anymore, but I fight you if you insist."

"Hmm… co-champions? Is that what you are offering?"

"_Aff_, co-champions. I think Evee would like it this way."

"Yeah, you're right," he sighed. "She'll like it. When you see her, tell her I miss her."

"I will," I smiled. I felt nothing. "Farewell, Kyle Garret. Good luck with the civil war of yours."

"Thanks. And good luck with her. She'll be proud of you."

The horn sounded, acknowledging our decision to not finish this fight to the last mech standing. I sunk in my command couch. The smell of the sand had never been so sweet, because I knew it was the last time I would smell it. Charred hulks marred the arena, and it served as a guide as I led my mech into the hangar. For one last time I took a glance at the Coliseum. Fame, money, deception, greed, fire, smoke, blood, all mended into one giant chapter in my life that I would soon close when I left Solaris, to open another page in another part of the universe.

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

**TWENTY FIVE**

**Note:** Special thanks for **_Tasmanian Tiger_** for the review and for taking Parker into your story. For readers that aren't aware, **_Tasmanian Tiger_** has started a new cool fanfic **Jericho Chronicles**, and Parker made a cameo in Ch.2. It's a cool story, so please read and enjoy. I'd include Sig into this story, but this story is almost complete. I'll think about other occasions.

* * *

_**Starport,  
**__**New St. Andrews, Periphery,  
**__**July 14, 3066**_

The dropship ramp led my feet back to a planet's soil once again. I could feel pollens and particles polluted the air, but I preferred particles to clean but putrid air from the purifier I had been inhaling for 5 months. The sunrays caressed my face, gently, reminding me of Evee's hands. Workers chattered in funny dialects, accents that I had never heard before. New St. Andrews was yet another whole new world for me.

I went through the custom, and they just let me through after I showed them my ticket. The custom here was not as strict as in major ports, particularly because this place was far from the clamor of civilization. It was practically in the middle of nowhere. Nobody came here often, and those who did so usually brought little something for the locals. I could imagine why Evee liked it here. Everything was genuinely simple.

Leaving the custom, I hailed a cab and asked him for MacGregor's palace. The driver was quiet, but he brought me through most of the city's exhibits. The city was exemplary in its own plainness. And I noticed the regiments of banners and attributes of festivity. I was not aware of any celebration when I came, but perhaps I was ignorant. My mind was so preoccupied with words and explanations I would have to give Evee that I missed virtually everything during my flight.

The cab dropped me at the gate of MacGregor's palace. I had seen bigger palaces, but it was the first time to see one with my own eyes. Although it was less grandeur than palaces from the Successor Houses, the aura was vehement. It was a magnificent building, gleaming in white, and dressed up in obvious carnival. Flowers and lamps hanging from the walls, and myriad gardeners mended the grass and shrubs into lush greeneries, giving a sense of glamour and serenity surrounding the palace. My mind flew back to Tecumseh, three years ago, where I met Evee the last time.

"What is your business?" two guards halted me as I walked toward the gate.

"I wish to see Evee Ridinghood, the Chief of Defense," I replied, feeling my heart beating faster. I could not wait to see her face when she saw me. Every single night of the long flight from Solaris, I dreamt of her eyes shining in delight.

"Miss Ridinghood is busy at the moment," one of the guards said. "If you are an invited guest or relative, you can see her at the wedding. If you're here for administrative matter, you can talk to interim Hector Alejandro. His office is across the street."

_Invited guest?_ That was unusual. I expected to hear 'appointment', but not 'invited guest'. "You do not understand," I tried to explain. "Please tell her that my name is…"

"Parker?" I heard her pitched voice superseded my words. "Parker, is that you?"

She was standing about two-dozen meters away from me. Adrenaline jumped into my head. I did not believe my eyes. She did not change at all. Not a bit, except a few pounds thinner than what I remembered three years ago. I felt my head exploded with sensations. All the good memories I spent with her came back in a flash, making me dizzy. I wanted to lunge at her and kiss those sweet lips, letting her how miserable my life was without her. But I restrained myself. Something did not feel right.

She walked toward me, hesitantly, as if she was wearing a harness. Her eyes were full of surprise, blissful surprise, but her body gestured a small confusion. I did not understand. What was going on? Why was she not excited to see me, the way she was excited when we met at Tecumseh?

"My God, Parker!" her smile was a heavy one. "How did you find out?"

"About what?" I did not understand what was taking place. "About this celebration?"

"About my… uhm…" she took a moment of silence. I could hear her heavy breathing. Then she showed me her beautiful ring on her left hand. "About my wedding."

"Your what?!" I almost bit on my tongue. I refused to believe my ears. This could not be true! The banners, flowers, lights, everything was in honor of her wedding! "It is not true, is it?" But her eyes told me that my denial would only go so far. "Evee, why did you not tell me?"

Suddenly a young man, barely over his adolescence, jumped out of the gate, looking at me with sparks in his eyes. "Holy Cow, I don't believe this! Parker is on my wedding! Oh my God, I don't believe this!"

Before I could ask for an explanation, he jumped right next to Evee and grabbed my hand in full force. "It's an honor for me that you are here! I am the biggest, freakiest fan of yours in the entire New St. Andrews! Oh my God, my parents will be psyched if they know you'll be in my wedding! Honey, did you invite him?"

"No," Evee shook her head, then gave me the overdue explanation. "This is Jeremy Stewart, my fiancée. He is the scion of the Stewart family, once MacGregor's rival, now liaison. He is a big fan of Solaris games, and over the years he has been rooting for you."

"I know from the moment I saw you fight, you'll be the champion of the assault class!" Jeremy kept babbling. "That Davion Kyle Garret went on to claim the Grand Championship. Man, what an upset! This might go down as the best Solaris Grand Championship ever!" He paused for a brief moment. "By the way, what happened man? Why didn't you fight in the Grand Championship? Had you been there, you'd whup his ass! I know you can do it!"

"I was…" I tried to find a good excuse. As incomprehensible as it could be, I did not want to ruin Evee's wedding. "My flight to New St. Andrews left before the match. I do not want to be late for the wedding."

"For real?" Jeremy's eyes almost popped out of his socket. "Holy Blake's blood, a Solaris champion in my wedding! This is awesome in so many level, I have to call my parents!" He rushed to where he came from, but stopped midway and waved at me, "Hey, maybe you can show me your moves sometime!"

"Anytime," I nodded, fibbing a smile, and waited until he disappeared behind the door, hopping with glee. He did not even feel suspicious of why I was there in the first place. I turned to Evee who looked at me with deep mourning. I longed for her, but the ring on her left hand said that my access to her had been expunged. She was so close, yet so far away. I was too late for her, and now I wished I did not go to New St. Andrews at all, because if I had to remember her, I did not want to do it this way.

"Does he know?" I asked.

"No, and please don't," Evee replied, half pleading.

"I understand," I spoke hoarsely. My head felt heavy, and my vision started to fade away. I could not believe that I spent 5 months with great anticipation, only to find her marrying someone else. If only I did not succumb to Daniels' pledge, if only ignored Emi… it would have been me instead of that immature, obnoxious geek Jeremy. "So when is the big day?"

"In three days. Listen, Parker –"

"Miss Ridinghood, we need to fit in your wedding dress," somebody shouted from inside the wall.

"Oh God, I am sorry Parker," she grabbed my arm, holding it tight. "I'm sorry you have to find it this way. I'll… I'll send you to your room. There's a dinner the night before, and you're invited. I owe you an explanation."

She jogged toward the big palace, stopping briefly to instruct her adjutant to take care of me. I watched her going into the palace, and the scene vividly reminisced our farewell 5 years ago at Outreach. A blunder that I would have to live with for the rest of my life. I came to reclaim her, instead I had to witness her walking away from me.

And three days was barely enough to accept the fact that I was too late for her.

* * *

_**O'Sarge Restaurant, Orkney Beach,  
**__**New St. Andrews, Periphery,  
**__**July 16, 3066**_

Once again, I had to be at a wedding, the last place I wanted to be. Jeremy was so exited having his favorite Solaris fighter at his wedding that he forced me to be the ring bearer. I had always been cantankerous about wedding, and added to this ordeal was I had to watch the only woman I cared about slipping away from my grasp. I did not want to be in this wedding, but the flight would not leave until the end of July. I had no excuse.

But at least, I owed Evee an apology. And she an explanation.

I lost my appetite. In fact, I lost interest in everything. I just watched others singing fake compliments about how perfect Evee and Jeremy were for each other, and Jeremy exulting his 'lovely bride' at every possible chance. I saw it in his eyes. He virtually worshipped Evee. He was in love with her, and the whole situation made my stomach twirl. Evee maintained her grand throughout the evening, but her eyes told me that she was as tormented as I was.

Jeremy initiated a toast, praising Evee once more, then went to hang out with his friends while others laughed and chattered. I saw a perfect opportunity to talk to Evee, so I excused myself and walked toward her. To my surprise, she met me halfway, smiling at Jeremy, then whispered, "Walk with me."

The restaurant was an exotic resort that jutted above beautiful seashore. We kicked off our shoes and walked slowly on the beach, letting the cold water pampered our feet. The rhythmical sound of the wave bashing the sand created a soothing nuance that calmed my rage. I did not know what to say, and it was apparent that Evee felt the same way. So we kept walking slowly until the restaurant was about half a mile away behind.

"I'm sorry I never told you," Evee started. "Everything started when you're making your way to eternity. I knew how upset you could be, and I didn't want to disrupt your concentration."

"Eternity," I scoffed. "Solaris is a game world. Everything you see is a game. And like any other games, some people do not like playing fair. Sometimes pilots reach the top because they are tied to some big names, the decision makers inside Solaris. Sometimes you do not have to be a good pilot to climb up the ladder of success. You just have to know somebody that can help you do it. And the worse part: it is no charity. You have to pay for the service, and instead of hurting your bank account, it hurts your dignity."

I wanted to tell her about the scandal, but I did not think now was the right time. Yet, I had to tell her how I felt. "I was sick of the pageantry. I was sick of the mask that I had to wear everyday, and I was sick of the masks that everybody wore. It was not what I wanted. I came here to find what I always wanted."

We did not speak again for a long time.

"Do you love Jeremy?" I dared myself to ask her.

"Aw, Parker," she guffawed. "I'm living my own pageantry. You know that the four ruling families of New St. Andrews have been fighting each other for years. Each family strives to be the sole ruler of New St. Andrews. Well, the arrival of Ridinghood Cavaliers evoked jealousy from other houses. We were still in our infancy when Sterling and Brannigan launched an attack. We managed to beat them, but with a devastating loss.

"With MacGregor, Sterling, and Brannigan at the low point, Stewart became the dominant house, and started moving toward total sweeping of other houses. In a desperate move, MacGregor offered a truce. Stewart agreed with a cost. MacGregor could not afford more attrition, so they proposed a matrimonial union between Jeremy and a MacGregor rose. Unfortunately, Jeremy didn't want anybody else but me.

"You'll ask me why I agreed to marry Jeremy. I did it for House MacGregor. The MacGregor family sheltered my family for generations. When I came back, they gave me my father's position as chief of defense. This wedding was the best thing I could do for them. With me as the spouse of Stewart's heir, the Stewarts will not attack MacGregor for any reason.

"So ask me again: is Jeremy a great guy? Yes, he is. Does he love me? Yes, he does, sometimes to the point that I felt lucky to marry him. Do I love Jeremy?" She paused, kicking the water as it rolled over her feet. "I think you know the answer."

I halted her. "Evee, I came here for you," I held her hand. "I was blind, and I was wrong. I hurt you, and I want to make it right. Once you said I thought too much. Here I am, missing the biggest chance in my Solaris career to be with you. I have nothing to offer, but I love you, Evee. I would do anything for you."

She did not answer directly. She took a while looking at me, biting her lips to muffle her sobs. "You don't know what you're asking, Parker. You're asking me to betray MacGregor family, to cheat my responsibility as the Chief of Defense. You're asking me to brew a new war we can't win.

"And what do you expect me to do, Parker?" she looked into my eyes, launching her frustration in full force. "You left me when I needed you the most, and you come when I need you the least. You confuse the hell out of me. For once in your life, tell me what you really want, because I don't know."

She was right. She had every right to be confused. Besides, I had my chance with her, and I did not take it. It was too late for a second chance, and it was selfish of me to ask her to leave Jeremy. This was her life, her home, and there was no room for me anymore. This was the right time for me to make my exit.

"A kiss goodbye would be nice," I forced myself to smile.

I did not have to ask her twice. Without hesitation, she lunged at me and kissed me. I felt my entire body gave way to the sensation, so much I felt my knee buckled. I just had to accept the fact that she was no longer a part of mine, and I bid my farewell to her. I felt she did the same. We kissed for a long time.

Long, long time.

With water on our feet, and stars above our heads.

Hoping that this moment would never, ever end.

* * *

Only 1 more chapter, the conclusion of **I, Ke2ensky**

Stay tuned...


	26. Encore

**ENCORE **

_**Orkney Beach,  
**__**New St. Andrews, Periphery,  
**__**July 17, 3066**_

The beach looked different in the afternoon. Blazing sunrays exemplified the silver lining between the water and the sky, and avian creatures danced around the clouds before skyrocketed into the water, then went airborne seconds later with live lunch in their mouths. The sound of rhythmical wave and scenes of marine mammals jumping up and down the water gave me tranquility to my otherwise aching mind.

I stood right where Evee and I spent our last time together, commemorating what we went through all these years. She was gone. I always store a glint of hope that one day I would be together with her. But now the hope had withered to die. She was gone, and I would live in oblivion for the rest of my life, just like I told Kyle Garret.

But perhaps I deserved everything. What I did on Solaris was unforgivable. I could not imagine how I would disgrace Evee if I had to tell her everything. Even if she were not engaged to Jeremy, she would not have me back. This way, I did not have to tell her at all. I would just take my secret to my grave.

Then what? What would become of life after this? Where would I go? I could go back to Solaris, crawling my way up to fame again. But I did enough damage to my self-esteem that I did not want to go back there. I could go to Outreach, finding a new job as a mercenary. There should be copious contracts as the FedCom Civil War escalated to the boiling point. Or perhaps back to Arc Royal, where I should have been these days. But could I undo what I did to Phelan Kell and the Wolf Clan?

I did not know the answers.

I glanced at my watch, noticing that I only had a few minutes left before I had to go to prep myself in a tuxedo, and be present at Evee's wedding. I remembered Kyle mentioned that he would love to see me in a tuxedo. I smiled at the irony. Kyle always wanted Evee and me to be as happy as him and his wife. I could not wait to see his face when I told him that I did wear a tuxedo in Evee's wedding, but it was not my wedding. A demented joke, but at least it was me that I made fun of.

"I knew I'd find you here."

I felt like I heard thunder. It was undeniable and impossible at the same time. I knew the voice, but it could not be her voice. I turned around, and I thought I was dreaming. It was Evee, yes, unmistakably Evee, without make up, without all the wedding attribute. She wore nothing but a short shirt that she bundled above her navel, and a knee-length skirt that danced in the wind. Her hair was in total disarray.

"What are you doing here?" I stammered. "Why are you not dressed up?"

"It's not gonna happen," she walked slowly toward me.

"What?" My heart jumped to my throat. I knew it was cruel to feel a bit glad to hear bad news, but I could not help it. "My sympathy… what happened? Did Jeremy find out?"

"It has nothing to do with you, Parker," she smiled, which increased my anxiety to feverish pitch. I expected to see tears and lamentation, but surprisingly, none was present. And I noticed she did not have her ring anymore. "Alright, I lied. It has everything to do with you."

I squinted against her smile. "I do not understand."

"I told them about you," she explained, closing her eyes to feel the gentle breeze pampering her hair. "I told the MacGregor family that you used to be Star Commander Darien Kerensky, a _ristar_ in Phelan Kell's Delta Galaxy. I told them about your victory over Jade Falcon's most heralded sadist. I told them that you were a Solaris champion in 2 different divisions, and a runner up in the other two. I told them you traveled the great distance, skipping the Grand Championship that you could've won, to join the MacGregor army, but the only thing holding you back was Jeremy Stewart. Greedy jackasses that they are, the MacGregors called off the wedding, kicked Jeremy out of MacGregor's property, and assigned me to get you with any means necessary."

"_Stravag!_" I cursed involuntary. "How could you do that? He loves you, you know."

"I know, and I'm not proud of what I'm doing," she sighed. "But this marriage shouldn't happen in the first place. It's based on deception. Besides, I am a Ridinghood. I work for MacGregor, but I am not one of them. If the Stewarts look for matrimonial bond, they should look for a MacGregor, not a Ridinghood."

"But the Stewarts will not let this humiliation unavenged," I mused. "You have not forgotten about your responsibility as MacGregor's Chief of Defense, _quineg_?"

"I brought them new war, a_ff_," she answered my involuntary Clan rhetoric with its equivalent, which surprised me. "But I also gave them a means to defend themselves, something more powerful than a marital bond – _you_. The Ridinghood Cavaliers are in need of CO for the Battlemech Company. With you at the helm, MacGregor's army would easily overpower the Sterlings, Brannigans, and Stewarts combined. The MacGregors like peaceful solution, but won't pass a shot at total domination."

She walked toward me until her hair whipped my face. Her eyes were swollen red from sleep deprivation, probably thinking about this scheme all night long. But the passion flickered brighter than the afternoon sun of New St. Andrews. "Lead my Cavaliers," she said, flashing a small smile, "and own me whole."

I stared at her for a long time, confused by how I should react. Politics was a very powerful tool, and Evee used it well. She deftly coerced the MacGregors to call off the wedding. By doing so, the MacGregors waged war against the Stewart family, and they would necessitate Evee to recruit me. She had no choice but to comply, hence nobody would see her as a tramp, or me a third man.

But in contrast, I had never seen this ruthless side of hers. I felt bad for Jeremy. He was a nice guy, albeit obnoxious, and he truly loved Evee. I could not begin to imagine the damage she did to him. He would mortally suffer, yes, there was no doubt about it. Not to mention the bloodshed she ignited. How could she expect me to take part in her ploy?

But in the end, perhaps the war was inevitable, and the wedding would only delay it. I did not know the relationship among these families; Evee did. No matter how ruthless it might sound, I knew she was making the right judgment. New St. Andrews was her home, her game, her arena. All I could do was to trust her and back her up with all my power.

After all, I was a Clansman. It was at war that I found my peace.

"Evee, I am not the same man you saw at Tecumseh," I said, preparing myself for the worst. If I was going to take this path, I _had_ to let her know. "I did terrible things…"

"Shh," Evee put her hand over my mouth, grinning from ear to ear. "We both did things we wish we didn't. Let them sink into our past. For now, pretend the wave as the drum, the wind as the guitar, the chirp of the birds as the cymbals… then dance with me."

Ah, Evee. All this years, it was our first dance that she remembered the most. But I could understand. I did not recall much of the song but I did recollect that I had never felt so close to her before. It was as if we melted into each other in concert with the music. So I put my right hand on the small of her back and swayed, leading her back to Tecumseh, dressing her with pink satin dress with flowers on her hair. She was an angel back then, and she was an angel now and always.

"Eight years, Parker," she sighed, leaning her head against my shoulder while swaying to my lead. "What a life we had together. Why must our path be this complicated? Why do we have to shed blood and tears to be together? Is life that cruel to us?"

"The way I see it," I caressed her tresses, "it makes us stronger, wiser, and aware that we can not live without each other. Well, I cannot live without you. And it also gives us a very strong message."

"Which is?"

I leaned on her ear, impersonating the best Spheroid accent I could muster, "There's nothing the two of us can't do."

Evee lifted her head, posing the most beautiful smile I had ever seen in her face. "I love you."

"I love you Evee."

As the tidal wave soaked our feet, our lips met. Once again, it was us, Evee and me. Nothing else mattered in this universe, because from now on, we knew only one thing…

… perpetuity.

**THE END...**

**... for now**

* * *

I surmise that the course of this story, up till the end, may upset some readers. I apologize if I did. It's not my intention to do so, but OTOH there's some standard I need to uphold. One, and the most important thing, is _**BattleTech**_'s political atmosphere. _**BattleTech**_ is not an action/adventure story. It's a war drama. Two, I always plan to make Parker-Evee as my perfect couple, but being 'perfect' means they both have to understand what it takes to have a perfect relationship. And what better thing to do the job than _time_, right? Time is the season for wisdom. That's the only reason why I keep them the way they were for 8 years. 

But enough of the lovey-dopey. Let me express my greatest gratitude to readers and reviewers. To _**Kat Wylder**_ and _**SulliMike23**_, many thanks for keeping up with me through the first half of 2007. And special thanks to _**Tasmanian Tiger**_ for letting Parker be a part of **Jericho Chronicles**. It's a very promising fanfic, so please read and enjoy it. To _**Tony, EvAnGeLzZz, Ogrewolf, Shadrach, Braasch, GeorgeK, Mutig, Callidus, Canonizado,**_ and **_Zmuh11_**, thank you very much for the reviews. So far I managed to post once a week, but it is only possible through the motivation from readers. Knowing that many readers keep reading it after tedious 25 weeks injects a high level of adrenaline to my blood.

Then the obvious question: **I, Ker3nsky**? I have all the intention, but not right away. Writing Ke2ensky is very time-consuming and draws a lot of energy. So through the rest of 2007, I'll post some lighter fanfics. One in hand is the side story (or spinoff, if you will) of Ke2ensky. It'll be Evee's show, from the time she parted with Parker in '61 until the start of the Ker3nsky. It'll explain things that are not covered here (like that Jeremy guy). Another one is the finale of **Eagle Screams and Sword Clashes** (sorry Kat, I barely have time to take care of Ke2ensky. But I will finish it). And of course I'll keep updating '**Knights in F-F Armor**' for more 1-shot stories. Then, if everything goes as planned, I'll start **I, Ker3nsky** in Spring 2008. It'll be less drama and more action-adventure (less **_BattleTech_**, more **_MW4_**), but it'll still be dark, bleak, and violent.

Until next time, and do enjoy!

RogueBaron, 2007


End file.
